


Plural

by Adiaphory



Series: Plural [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Abused Antonio, BBT/Romano, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Canada the Drug Dealer, Coming Untouched, Eating out, First Dates, FraPru, Frain - Freeform, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Human Names, Insomnia, Lovino in panties, Lovino's sassy internal monologue, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Monogamy, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Polygamy, Prumano - Freeform, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Slow Build, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesomes, gerita - Freeform, retail work, spamano - Freeform, then fast build, threesome to foursome, undiagnosed mental shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:37:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5415446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adiaphory/pseuds/Adiaphory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis coughed. “All? Do you mean…?” He waved his index finger around the table, pointing to each person individually. “<em>All</em> all?”</p>
<p>“I love all of you, and if you can all love each other… then things could get pretty interesting, si?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>[Also posted to Fanfiction.net]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rain

“You know, this would be a lot easier if we had a bigger bed.”

Francis rolled his eyes and untangled his hair from Gilbert’s iron necklace. “With what money, Toni? I’m all for having a bigger bed to play in— _honhonhon_ —but this one is nice and quaint!” He grunted as a few blonde hairs were ripped out. “And we can get so much _closer_ in this one.”

The cringe in Francis’s eyes betrayed him and his inner desires for more space, but of course he denied needing a new bed; he had spent the past month making off-handed comments about how they should save money and move to a better apartment closer to his work place, a high-end restaurant.

Gilbert groaned between the two men, picking at the hair stuck in the iron cross pendant. “Why do I have to be in the middle? It’s unawesome! My muscles are so big it’ll push you two off the side when I sleep-flex!”

“Because it’s your turn,” Francis reminded him. “How many times do we have to go through this? It alternates every three days!”

“Well it’s stupid!”

“You only complain when it’s _your_ turn to be Lucky Pierre!”

They bickered on longer than Antonio cared to listen to. This had been a growing occurrence between the three of them in the past few weeks, building slowly into daily fights over trivial things. It was hard to tell if this was normal lovers’ spats or possibly a negative side effect of trying to maintain a three-man relationship.

Antonio loved his boyfriends to death but all the drama they created was wearing on him and making him intentionally miss the bus home some nights. He was growing concerned they would all drift apart and had been planning something of an intervention. If anything would get his boyfriends to get their act together it was definitely their _other_ boyfriend!

Wait, maybe that’s just adding fuel to the fire.

Either way! Antonio was positive sitting them down one day and talking through their relationship issues would solve everything!

* * *

It was beginning to rain when Antonio’s intended bus had driven away. That morning had went well between Francis and Gilbert but he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was only the calm before the storm. Though if he had known it would rain he would have sucked it up and got on the bus! He was resigned to sit on the old, dirty bench waiting for the next one. The rain began to pick up and hit harder as wind added into the torment.

A shiver slid through his shoulders as he tried to suppress the cold, telling himself to think warm thoughts… like campfires and Starbucks coffee and freshly baked bread and hugs and kisses and when Francis works him while Gilbert is rubbing on his—

Oh. Well now he has an entirely new problem.

Think cold thoughts! Snow and ice cream and when Gilbert’s necklace first touches his bare chest and sends excited tingles to his skin—

_Damn it._

“Hey, pervert, don’t you have playgrounds or preschools to hang around instead of bus stops? Or are you waiting for the little Catholic school boys to come by?”

Antonio squeaked and jerked his head up to the deep, rolling voice that had shocked him just seconds before. Above him stood a man in a olive-green coat with a fur-lined hood, holding a black umbrella which blocked out the rain but also the sun, framing him in a light that obscured his face until his shifted the umbrella to better block the pounding rain. Antonio could tell from his fitted jeans he was thin (or at least his legs were). The man watched him for a moment before speaking up again.

“Hey, pervert? You gonna say something or do you get off on being called out? _Fucking exhibitionists_.”

Antonio jumped to life, awkwardly grabbing the hem of his shirt and pushing his knees together to hide the (dying) problem. “H-hola!”

“Huh, he knows how to speak.”

He giggled. “Si, I can speak. Sorry, you caught me in a daydream.”

The standing man scoffed a bit, muttering, “You really shouldn’t daydream like that in public.”

The tips of Antonio’s ears burned against the rain and he was sure his cheeks now matched his reddened nose. “It’s not like that! I just missed my bus and got a little side-tracked thinking of my boyfriends back home.”

The small smirk on the Italian’s face sent a jolt through Antonio’s chest. “Boyfriends?”

“S-si.”

“Is that a lisp or are you just some two-timing bastard?”

To the Italian’s surprise Antonio chuckled. “It’s not like that, amigo. It’s a polyamorous relationship. There’s three of us and we’re all dating each other.”

“Hey, it’s getting fucking cold, are you planning on sitting in the rain until the next bus?”

“Well, that was the idea.”

There was a pause. The Italian looked flustered as he reached out to the Spaniard, pulling him to his feet. “Come with me. I wouldn’t want your moron boyfriends losing your dumbass to hypothermia.”

“Qué?”

Antonio was pulled by his wrist down the sidewalk, somewhat covered by the umbrella. “I’m taking you somewhere warm and dry while you wait, or would you rather sit in the rain and commit public indecencies?”

Antonio smiled sheepishly and followed the Italian, this time of his own volition. They stopped not too far away at a coffee shop where they sat quietly by the front window.

Minutes of uncomfortable silence passed, but to be honest Antonio kind of liked it. It gave him time to better inspect this man.

His hair was dark with a stray curl loosely hanging off the side and his skin was tanned to match. There seemed to be a constant scowl on his face but Antonio attributed that to a possibility of Chronic Bitchface. It was actually quite endearing. His eyes were hard to place, somewhere between green and muddy hazel, framed in oddly long and dark lashes.

Those same eyes snapped up to meet Antonio’s, narrowed slightly. “The fuck are you staring at, perv?”

“You,” he replied bluntly. With a warm smile he asked, “What’s your name? I’m Antonio.”

“Lovino,” he said with hesitance.

“Oh, Lovi, what a cute name!”

“Lovi _no_!”

“It was awfully nice of you to stop and talk to me, Lovi.” The Italian growled. “Why did you stop, may I ask?”

Lovino’s eyes darted around, avoiding the Spaniard’s gaze as he stalled and hummed and avoided the question. “I, uh, thought you looked pretty fucking pathetic sitting there in the rain. And I didn’t want to come in here alone and risk looking as pathetic as you.”

“Sure, sure,” he smiled.

They sat in silence, avoiding each other and the growing awkwardness. The pounding rain turned to hail and Antonio’s phone was almost unheard over the clicking window. He slid it from his pocket, screen somewhat foggy, sighing lowly when he saw the missed calls.

“Is it your boyfriend or your boyfriend?”

Antonio looked up to see the small smirk on Lovino’s face.

“Both.” They sat for another minute before Antonio quietly excused himself to catch the bus (which he insisted must be there by now) and said his goodbyes. The Spaniard sat at the same bench as before, waiting with hands over his head. When transit finally arrived he hurried on, shivering, and sat rigidly in a front seat. The twenty-minute ride to the bus stop near his apartment was spent contemplating what he would do if there was another fight.

Gilbert was in the process of opening the front door when Antonio came bursting through, knocking into him, both landing in a pile on the floor.

“Gil!”

“Toni!” The use of his name urged Francis to emerge from their bedroom as he tied a scarf around his neck.

The blonde rushed to the fallen men, not bothering to help them up as he grabbed Antonio’s hand and frantically cried, “We were worried sick! Do you not know how to call? Or text? ANTONIO, WE THOUGHT YOU DIED!”

Francis dramatically bit at the material of his scarf while Gilbert and Antonio finally got to their feet. “Lo siento, I missed the bus.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gilbert patted his back. “You know how much Franny likes to overreact. He thinks everyone even two seconds late is dead or dying.”  
“He could have been! It was hailing!”

There was no fight that night, only warm cuddles on the couch while random movies played on and off on the old box TV Gilbert had provided to the apartment when he moved in. Antonio sat, wrapped in a ridiculous amount of blankets due to Francis’s worrying, with a man on either side of him.

Antonio heard Gilbert’s obnoxious laughter mixing with Francis’s equally strange laugh as he fell asleep. Maybe getting caught in the rain wasn’t so bad.

* * *

Antonio woke up the next morning back in his bed between the two loves of his life. They were both turned to him with arms limply holding onto his chest. Unfortunately the alarm had to go off and ruin his moment of peace with its ugly buzzing, breaking the air and leaving him with an ache in his eyes.

His eyes were screwed shut and he wasn’t having any of this today. The alarm had stopped and he smiled a bit. Then he shivered a bit. Then he shivered a lot. When did it get so obscenely cold?

He felt Francis reach over him, his chest now cold from the removed arm, nudging Gilbert. A soft hand gently but firmly pressed to his forehead. “Gil, wake up.” The pale man groaned. “Gil, get up. I think our little churro is sick. I knew I was right to worry last night!”

Things became a blur of hot and cold and quiet and noise. Antonio was content where he was with Francis stroking his hair and stopping to find more blankets for him when he’d sneeze, and Gilbert talking loudly on the phone calling him in sick. So much for Antonio’s Saturday shift.

After the fifth blanket he felt warm again and finally got back to sleep. Hovering above him were two worried boyfriends, hands clasped, blaming themselves. To Antonio they were the two who were dysfunctional and constantly starting drama over nothing. To them Antonio was the careless man they loved more than life who didn’t know how to take care of himself.

Antonio was so reckless sometimes but too naïve to realize it. It didn’t occur to him it was dangerous to start a car still parked in a garage, almost killing him when he was seventeen and still living at home. He didn’t think to bring coats when it got chilly out since he was still accustomed to warmer climates.

He had no idea how much they worried about him. They had no idea they were worrying for all the wrong reasons.


	2. The Man in the Rain

It rained on until early the next morning. Lovino sat alone in his room, unable to sleep. His phone was blindingly bright and the room was shockingly dark for a man with a slight fear of it. A small twinge in his gut made sleep impossible, leaving him instead to play _Candy Crush_ and _Solitaire_ until he would become tired enough to sleep again.

It was Saturday and he had no plans. He preferred to spend his days off alone, though he was more than a bit annoyed to already be spending the first four hours of it in bed playing on his smartphone.

He lay back down and snuggled his face into the satin pillow cases, thinking up the most boring topics he could.

_The Pythagorean Theorem is the square of the hypotenuse equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides… Alan Turing made the first designs later used for inventing the computer… Benedict Cumberbatch is such a good actor… Those cheekbones…_

He turned on his side, digging deeper into the warm blankets.

_Are his eyes blue or green? They’d look good green… and if he was tanner… and had a Spanish accent—_

_Oh no. OH HELL NO, WE ARE NOT DOING THIS, he internally screamed at himself. I am not fucking going to sleep thinking of that weird Spanish threesome pedophile!_

_….he was cute, though._

_NO. NO, GODDAMN IT._

_But he was._

_WHO’S FUCKING SIDE ARE YOU ON? …I really need to sleep. Jesus Christ, I’m going mad here._

Lovino didn’t fall asleep until it was close to six in the morning and the sun had begun to peak into the windows. It was Saturday, he could sleep in late. That stupid jerk just had to keep him awake. Well, that and the insomnia.

_Another jerk bastard day thanks to that jerk bastard—huh. It… it started with an A, didn’t it? Or was it an F? No, that doesn’t sound right. A…Aaa… Andrew? Andy?_

Another jerk bastard day thanks to that jerk bastard Andrew!

* * *

Feliciano storming into the apartment while chirping loudly about how so in love he was with that stupid German boyfriend of his wasn’t how Lovino thought he’d wake up that day. He also wasn’t expecting to be woken up at noon after spending all night thinking of that stupid sexy polygamist.

_NO. Not sexy! Just stupid!_

“Fratello! Come on out, we can make some pasta!”

Lovino groaned throatily in disgust for his hyperactive brother. He turned around to smother himself further into his pillow. “Go away!”

_Tap tap tap tap tap_. “But Lovi!” He scratched at the door when he realized it was locked. “I haven’t seen you since the family reunion!”

“Grandpa getting drunk and groping random men at the bar was _not_ a family reunion!”

Twenty more minutes of Feliciano scampering around the apartment accompanied by suspicious crashing noises prompted Lovino to finally get off his ass and be awake for the day. When he emerged from his room his hair was disheveled and he was clad only in sweatpants and an oversized sweater from a college he didn’t go to.

Then there was Feli, perfect as ever with his stupid shiny hair and his stupid brand name shoes and clothes. The TV in the front of the apartment was tilted and the DVD collection was stacked messily on the floor. _Feli definitely bumped into FUCKING EVERYTHING HE COULD HAVE, GODDAMN IT, FRATELLO._

And he had the nerve to smile at him from the kitchenette. The NERVE.

“Good morning,” he called out. “Pasta?”

“You fucking know it,” Lovino mumbled, exhausted yet wide awake.

They sat together at the rounded table and Feliciano served them both generous portions into the disposable paper bowls he found on the counter. Then he passed out the plastic forks and the _Wendy’s_ napkins from the far drawer.

“Ludwig is so sweet,” the redhead purred between bites. “He’s so shy about everything! Oh, but it’s so cute! He can’t say he loves me—”

“ _Or he won’t_ ,” Lovino cut in

“—but when we’re in bed he says such dirty things! Like last night when—”

Lovino slapped his hand over his brother’s mouth, cringing lightly at the feeling of sauce sticking to his palm. “NO. WE ARE NOT TALKING ABOUT YOUR STUPID SEX LIFE WITH THE POTATO FUCKER.”

His face was red and his forehead felt tight with how hard he was furrowing his eyebrows. Then there was that sweet little face of his sweet little brother who was about to regale the most disgusting story known to man.

Lovino removed his hand and they finished their meals. He was losing himself to his thoughts and his brother, as stupid as he was, was extremely perceptive when it came to family.

“What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing,” the green-eyed brother sighed. Feli gave him his _I’m-not-that-stupid_ look. “Okay, fine! I… sorta… kind of… maybe… met a guy.”

Feliciano’s eyes sparkled and he shook the table with his excitement. “Oh! Big brother finally found _the one?_ I’m so happy for you! You should double-date with me and Luddy and then we can have a double wedding and adopt kids from the same orphanage and get puppies from the same litter!”

“Jesus!” Lovino cried. “I said I _met_ a guy! Met! And it was a false alarm. Turned out he was taken.”

Feliciano frowned. “I’m sorry, fratello. I get so excited.”

“Yeah, yeah, just go buy some downers from one of those burnouts we knew in high school. That should fix you right up.” He looked down to his pasta numbly. “Fucker doesn’t just have a boyfriend either… he has _two_.”

“Two?”

“Get this, Feli. A _polygamist_. Just my luck, huh? First my _sexy single senses_ backfire and now the hot guy I found jerking it in the rain has, not one, but _two_ boyfriends in my way.”

Feliciano got up, taking both their empty bowls back to the counter to retrieve more pasta. “But this is good,” he hummed. “He’s into multiple partners! Go back and find him and ask him out!”

“You’re just going to ignore the ‘jerking it’ comment?”

“Maybe they’re looking for a fourth! Oh, fratello, if he’s as hot as you like them then he has to be dating other hot men! You could have _three_ sexy boyfriends!”

“That’s not how any of that works,” Lovino chided. He was rejoined at the table and took a break to eat some more. “He was, like, a ten.”

“A ten?”

“A fucking ten! Tens are hard to come by! He’s probably paired up with an eight and a seven!” His stomach dropped before he added in a cold voice, “They wouldn’t want someone else… they already have each other…”

It was tense after that. It was well known that Lovino got defensive and angry when he felt any form of defeated and, for an Italian, not getting a hot piece of ass he stopped in the rain to hit on was a failure. Now he was just sitting there, hardly touching his pasta, deep in thought again. Feliciano took care of cleaning up the few utensils he had used, put the food away, and left. Lovino always did prefer to be alone when he was trying to think.

_Why did I stop for him?_ He asked. I _’ve been off my game for months. And then I finally grow a pair it turns out the idiot already had a pair… a set? Fuck._

Lovino trudged back to his room. He was back in bed, readjusting his blankets around his legs. There was nothing spectacular about the man in the rain. He didn’t feel drawn to him, he wasn’t overwhelmed with love when he first saw his face. There was no love at first sight, no matter how sweet and attractive this Anthony (Andrew?) guy was.

There was a longing deep within his heart. He felt it every time his brother humble-bragged about Ludwig and every time he saw a group of high school kids hanging out near the coffee shop he frequented.

There was one thing he would admit: there was a warmth he felt when talking to the soaking wet man. The way he smiled and seemed genuinely interested in the few words Lovino spoke to him. He gave Lovino this kind of attention he needed. They had known each other for fifteen minutes when he was given a nickname. They had known each other for half an hour when the tanned beauty decided the hail and rain were a better alternative than sitting with him in a warm shop.

_Why can’t I remember his name? Someone paid attention to me and made me feel like I used to… how could I forgot his fucking name?_

Lovino curled up under the blankets and hummed nonsense to himself to block out the thoughts. His insomnia wasn’t giving in but neither was he. By the end of that night he was finally able to drift off. It only took him ten hours of lying in bed and playing on his phone to accomplish.

As usual he was plagued by the same dreams as every other night: a mixture of wandering his old favorite locations, now hauntingly still and unpopulated, and the occasional moment of clarity when he dreamt he wasn’t alone but the faceless people around him were so persistent in leaving him behind.

* * *

He opened his eyes to the dark glow of his high school history class. There was no teacher and the chalkboard was blank like the faces of the students surrounding him. While he sat in a center desk the white, blobby, creepy classmates were standing together. They would look back to stare at him before turning away, shaking with silenced laughter.

And just like in high school he jumped up from his desk, stumbling over his feet. He ran out the door, gliding through one of the faceless bastards. And he ran into the hallway, down the long and narrow corridors. The end was solid white and blurred the walls into the same undefined memories. He stopped, turning into the janitor’s closet.

Inside was the history class. Lovino looked around the room nervously before his gaze stopped. Right there, in the middle of the room, in the same desk he previously occupied was… _him_. The mop of chocolate curls turned and he was met with the bright green eyes he felt solace in the day before.

That gentle smile grew wider and the newcomer stood up and raced to Lovino, holding him at an arm’s length, cheering, “Lovi! I missed you!”

* * *

Lovino shot up from his bed, crying out when his stiffness caused him a wicked charley horse in his thin legs. He reached down and tried to massage it, jumping slightly when it only made it worse. The pain passed and he laid back, noting the time on his phone. Two in the morning.

“Jesus…” he panted. “What the fuck was that about?”


	3. Good at Sales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino has an annoying day at work and Francis changes his mind on the bed debate.

All the extra attention was making Antonio feel all warm and fuzzy inside, though that might have been from the mountain of blankets he was wrapped up in. It was Sunday and he was feeling a lot better… of course, Gilbert and Francis refused to believe him and continued to swaddle him and force medicine down his throat.

He was once more drowsy from the cold medicine and napping for the third time that day. Francis and Gilbert stopped in to check on him once they had finished sanitizing the entire apartment. He was so cute when he slept!

Gilbert never was one to show a non-sarcastic soft side but he couldn’t resist leaning over his Spanish lover to stroke his thumb over his baby-soft cheek. He pulled back when he heard the cutie mumble.

“Oh, how cute,” Francis cooed. “He’s sleep-talking!”

Together they sat on the bed, careful not to jostle the sleeping man.

“L… Lovi…”

Francis patted the blankets down. “ _Précieux_. He’s saying ‘lovey!’ I swear, as soon as he’s better and has his stamina back… _honhonhon_.”

Gilbert took a deep breath and sighed loudly and dramatically. Something stirred within him, like a secret was being kept. The knot forming began to loosen when he saw the peaceful looks on both his boyfriends’ faces. He had to be overreacting, nothing was even _wrong_.

They left and let him be. Antonio would be fine, he always was. They, on the other hand, were not.

* * *

Fuck everything about Sunday shifts. Everything was fine and great that day until Lovino’s bastard manager texted him as he was waking up, begging him to come in since stupid damn Alfred called in sick at the last second.

Alfred was getting his food spit in next time he found it in the fucking break room.

Here Lovino was, stuck in khaki pants and a red polo shirt with his stupid pinned-on name tag at that obnoxious department store he had to work at until he got his feet off the ground. He was hired on as seasonal labor back in November but was one of the few workers competent enough to be hired on a more permanent basis. Given his short fuse and explosive temper he and, incidentally, everyone he knew were surprised when he announced his section manager offered him a full-time non-seasonal position.

He was almost free. So very close. It would have been irresponsible to just quit but if he was let go he had an excuse. Now he was stuck here at the store until he could realistically score a new job interview at a place he didn’t detest.

Being Sunday he had to arrive for the morning shift and was stuck there until close (fuck you very much, Alfred, and about three more no-shows). The morning meeting left him with a sore lip from where he had been biting it to stop himself from losing his shit at all the idiotic greetings and reminders and _“good job, blah-blah department! You beat out some other county’s department last week!”_

Oh, how Lovino hated department stores.

“Hey, Vargas,” called out the cool, calm, and irritatingly slow voice of the Interior Home Supplies department. Lovino stopped before he caught the escalator to the second floor where his main department was located and bit his cheek as he turned to face the man. “We’re short-staffed in Home Goods. Can you fill in for the morning?”

“Shoes needs me,” he gritted out. “Only one other person even showed up today and I’m already working open to close.”

“Great, you can open for Home and close for Shoes. This way,” Heracules gently grabbed Lovino’s wrist and pulled him away from the escalators and down an aisle until they stopped at the department he oversaw.

“Mr. Karpusi,” Lovino growled. “I told you, I have to go make sure Shoes doesn’t get wrecked!”

“You can check in on it when it’s slow here.”

“But—I—”

“Thanks for helping out. You’ll have to alternate between salesmen and cashier. I won’t need you after one o’clock or so.”

The Greek man walked away, speaking lowly about needing to find his walkie-talkie. Lovino furrowed his eyebrows together, his curl twinging at the thought of now being responsible for twice as much work that day.

As he angrily stormed behind the cash register to check supplies he hissed out, _“I wasn’t even supposed to be here today.”_

* * *

Lunch was over and it was almost time to go hide upstairs in the shoe displays. It was so much easier upstairs, where every department was self-explanatory and only required a salesman if the moron customer couldn’t find their size in something. Once he was done here checking the money he was _free_.

“Excuse me, can you help me out here? I’m in need of a new mattress.”

Lovino looked up from counting random change behind the register. “Just a moment, ma’am.”

“ _Sir_.”

“Just a moment.”

“No, I mean _me_!”

Lovino pushed the tray back into the register and looked up again, this time actually looking at what he was seeing. _Oh_.

“Sorry,” Lovino said flatly. “I didn’t catch the beard.” He circled around the counter and joined the effeminate man. “You need a mattress? They’re right this way.”

The two walked through a few old shelves filled with boxed appliances like blenders and microwaves and convection ovens. They passed the metal wire bins filled with over-stuffed pillows and the racks of coat-hangers and plastic mattress covers and sheet sets.

There were a few beds set up, some decked out on nice wooden frames with the fluffiest comforters and silkiest sheets hanging off the sides and the soft and lush throw pillows hiding the boring and plain sleeping pillows underneath. Then there were the boring displays with just a mattress and box spring set on basic metal legs.

Lovino stopped at the first plain bed, swooping his hand over the top. “These are the display mattresses. We have five types.” He eyed the surrounding area, spotting no managers. “But if you want an actual bed you should go down the street to Mattress Carnival.”

“That’s okay,” the customer hummed. “You have a sale this week, I checked the paper! I’ve been dying to get a new bed for months but it’s so hard to convince my roommates.”

“Yeah, we’re great with savings, whatever,” Lovino mumbled. “So, what? You just want the cheapest one then?”

“That’d be great.”

Lovino skipped back to the counter, feeling blessed to have such an easy customer this early. He took the weekly add from behind the counter of the cashier station and ran back to the blonde man who, by this point, was laying on one of the mattress displays.

The blonde patron paid him no attention as Lovino checked the five mattress’s prices and compared them to the discounts advertised in the paper. “Does size matter? Would you take a single if it’s cheaper than twin?”

“Size always matters,” the man gave a disgusting giggle. “I need something bigger. No bigger than king and no smaller than twin.”

“Queen?”

“Perfect!”

Customers were filtering in, some holding their own copies of the weekly ad in their grubby hands. As any retail employee would know, there’s two methods to dealing with crowds when you’re alone: take as much time as possible on individuals and wait for the more self-sufficient buyers to find their own items and other cashiers, weeding themselves out…. Or go through them all as fast as possible since self-cashiering workers got a cut of the profits.

Lovino needed money. He was wearing clothes he found in the hamper and socks he found under his bed. He needed quarters for laundry like he needed pasta to eat. It was time to switch back to his regular department but that was non-commission and he was so poor that his bank account was fighting between double and triple digits.  
It was time to be the attentive salesperson he swore he’d never become. Shoes could wait.

“ _Ourcheapestqueenisrighthere_ ,” he spit out and pointed to the plastic price plate. “This in your money range?”

“That’s perfect, again.”

“Right this way and I’ll ring you up! Do you need any more supplies?” He rushed as he and the man hurried to the register where a line was already forming. Where the hell were the other idiots who were supposed to work here today? “Can I interest you in a membership to save five percent or a spring set for the mattress?”

He hadn’t spoken this fast since he used to argue with his family in Italian during soccer ( _ **football** , fucking America having to change everything_).

“That’s fine.”

Lovino smashed in the number buttons and pulled up the code for the mattress. He scanned his savings magazine, hit a few more buttons, and read out the total. “Do you have a membership with us already? You can earn twenty dollars back on your Customer Points from this purchase.”

_I am a robot. I am a soulless, lifeless robot and **I fucking need quarters to live.**_

“Ah, I do!” He pulled a wallet from his blazer pocket, handing out a credit card and a membership card covered in red stripes. “The name is Bonnefoy.”

Lovino scanned the cards. “Francis Bonnefoy?” The man nodded. “And do you still live at the Polygate Complex?”

“Oui, oui.” Lovino cringed at the French.

“Your transaction is done, here is your receipt and have a nice day. Your mattress will arrive in two to three weeks. You can track it through your email on the membership.”

Francis walked away, sashaying his hips ( _why would a man do that?_ ), but disappeared into the aisles. Not that Lovino noticed at all, he was busy ringing up blenders and headphones and other stupid things these morons could have bought online cheaper.

* * *

Francis hummed in irritation when his car took longer than usual to start. The Service Engine light was dim but he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, they’ll run into some money and they could all finally get a car for each of them and a nice house and maybe one of those sex swings.

Francis Bonnefoy was no stranger to weird new sex acts.

He pulled his phone out, quickly dialing up Gilbert as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Bonjour, Gilbert!”

_“It’s almost two, where are you?”_

“I’m leaving the store. I just bought myself an early birthday present, _honhon_.”

_“There’s nothing wrong with our old bed!”_

“Says you! I, for one, don’t appreciate the spring that sticks out and hits in me the ribs!”

_“We’ll flip it.”_

“There’s a hole on the other side from your bird tearing it up!”

_“Ja, but no spring!”_

“Gilbert!” He grunted as a car cut him off while leaving the store. “How’s Antonio?”

_“The same as he was an hour ago.”_

“You know what I mean!”

_“Ja, I do! And he’s the same! He did escape from the blankets and took a shower. I guess we can’t mother him anymore.”_

“Shut up, we can always mother him. He’s so childlike. Has he eaten?”

_“Not yet.”_

“I’m getting him a Happy Meal.”

_“Oh, me, too! They got these cool new toys—”_

“Goodbye, Gilbert.”

* * *

It was well past three when Lovino finally tore himself away from the idiots of Home Goods. He arrived to the shoe department and was devastated to see his normally perfectly clean area totally defiled. There were opened boxes everywhere, tissue paper thrown across the floor, shoe horns left abandoned and still in the display shoes. Shoe laces were undone and snagged and the perfect bows were knotted messes. The shelved shoe boxes were out of place and sticking out at every possible angle.

“What kind of monster…” Lovino ran forward, grabbing all the trash he could find to begin the recovery process. He had an armful of paper and torn laces when a middle-aged man and his two ( _brats_ ) children had approached him, irritated, demanding Lovino stop what he was doing right now and check the stock room for size eleven-and-a-half of these Nike shoes that didn’t even run in halves.

“Sir,” he counted to himself, “That shoe doesn’t run in half-sizes. You’ll have to try either an eleven or twelve.”

“No! The display shoe was ten-and-a-half!”

Lovino dropped his trash back on the floor and took the boxed shoe the man handed him and then the display shoe, which had an electronic tag flashing the price. “These are different shoes. This box,” he shook it for emphasis, “is Nike. This _shoe_ ,” he lifted the display, “is Adidas.”

“But they look the same.”

“I can assure you they’re not.”

“Then where are the…” the man stared at the Adidas. “…those?”

Lovino spent a good ten minutes showing this moron the Adidas section, then the Nike section, then the general sportswear. It took him over an hour to straighten the department back into shape.

After he punched out for the end of the day he stopped to rest his head against the lockers. It was only six and it was already the longest day of his life… and he had another shift tomorrow from five to close (which was nine on weekdays). Great. For full-time he worked some annoying sporadic hours.

Heracules stepped into the cramped locker room where the employees all kept their coats and other personal items. He slowly worked on his locker’s lock, speaking so softly that Lovino missed it at first.

“Thank you for filling in today, Vargas,” he greeted. “We were severely understaffed. There’s a bug going around.”

“I could tell,” he grumbled, pulling his green jacket on. “I was the only person in Home Goods or Shoes. I swear I’ll have grey hair after this.”

Heracules chuckled. “You need to learn to relax. And good job on the mattress sale, by the way. I saw how fast you got that woman out of here with that sale. I’ll have to see about stealing you away for my department. You’re a pretty good salesman.”

He slinked out, leaving Lovino behind, shuffling his feet. He wasn’t _good_ , he got lucky with that man. Wait. Was he good? No! He hated people! He hated making sales, that’s why he worked in shoes where the point was maintaining how clean it was!

…Was he good?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I did suffer as an employee of a department store. _It's not that hard to find shoes, damn it._


	4. Exhaustion

Here he was. Again. Antonio was once more stuck at the bus stop, though this time he genuinely was running late. The sky was darkening and he just knew it was going to rain again. The wind picked up and he shivered against the bench.

Maybe that cute man will come by again to take him back to that warm coffee shop?

Antonio pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his last texts with Gilbert and Francis from their group message. He smiled to himself, seeing their typed _“I love you”_ s and “ _let’s break in the new bed next week_.” He didn’t understand how they couldn’t always be like that. They did argue through the group message, but it hurt him too much to see that kind of negativity in his happy place. They were always swiftly deleted. A new message sprang up and he squinted at the too-dim screen to read it.

**Francis : Running late at the restaurant.**

**Francis : Toni you were right about everyone getting sick.**

**Francis : Emma said half our staff was out today to be safe.**

Antonio quirked an eyebrow. That certainly explains why everyone in the office was sniffling and his sacred tissue box was growing smaller every time he left his desk for longer than a minute.

**Gilbert : When r u 2 getting home??? I’m getting lonely!1**

**Francis : Type like a human**

**Gilbert : Fuck u bby**

**Gilbert : I type awesome**

**Antonio : Sorry, I missed the bus again :(**

**Antonio : I’ll be home as soon as I can Gil**

**Gilbert : Francy give Toni the car**

**Gilbert : Office men need it more**

**Francis : I work farther away! We talked about this already**!

The beeping and buzzing of the new messages became rapid as the two began another argument. Antonio flipped through the phone settings and muted it all.

**Francis : You could have the car if you had a job**

**Gilbert : Rlly? Ur gonna bring that up again!**

The weather felt right. It knew before Antonio did that everything would go to hell. He slipped his phone back into his pocket, just narrowly missing the newest _“I love you”_ s. Some time passed and the next bus arrived, Antonio reluctantly getting up to climb the steps and hand the driver his bus pass.

It didn’t rain until he was dropped off at the next bus stop, which was only a few minute walk from his apartment. His stomach knotted and did flips as he walked through the glass doors of the complex, growing heavier as he climbed the concrete and black metal steps to the second floor.

“What the…?” Antonio grabbed the small plastic bag hanging from the apartment door. It was opaque but showed the silhouette of a pamphlet inside. He turned the bag around and saw in blue lettering reading **Church of Scientology**. Upon opening the front door he was assaulted with the sour smell of kraut and fatty meat. “Gil, what’s this?” he held the bag up as he rounded the dining table to the kitchenette.

“I’m busy, babe,” Gilbert grumbled. He was an angry cook.

“This!” the Spaniard cried, shaking the bag around. “Why do we have advertisement from the Church of Scientology? Gil, I told you I didn’t want you messing around there!”

“Sorry, mom,” Gilbert groaned. “But I’m so bored all day!”

“We are a Catholic family!”

“We’re _great_ Catholics. Remember last night when we had you calling out to God? For _hours_ —”

“It wasn’t hours!” Antonio huffed. His cheeks were tinted red and he was feeling almost ashamed to talk about religion and his sex life in the same sentence. “And that’s not the point. I had a long day at work and I don’t like coming home to this _John Travolta_ trash.”

Gilbert turned the stove off and turned to Antonio, his face changing between confusion and straight surprise. “Since when do you care?”

“Gil, please.” Antonio took a few deep breaths and walked away, heading straight for the bedroom. Flopping on the bed he hissed, hitting the infamous spring. He just wanted to sleep the rest of the day off. He didn’t want to be awake when Francis got home. He didn’t even want to live here with them when all they did was have petty arguments and ignore his simple requests. Was it so hard to _not_ ask the Scientologists and Mormons and hardcore Christian hate groups to send them literature that he knew for a fact Gilbert only acquired to blog about?

The internet was always slow from Gilbert’s constant blogging and ranting about jobs instead of actually looking for interviews. The furniture was always moved around or randomly set up with new throw blankets and pillows because all Francis ever saw was how ‘ugly’ it was. Their joint family funds were always short these days because of a certain French lover who constantly bought impulse items ‘for the family.’ All they did was complain and argue and use, use, use! Then when Antonio would need them they smothered him and acted like he was some child!

_I’m not a child_ , he thought to himself, pushing his face into the new over-stuffed purple satin throw pillow Francis bought the week before to satiate himself until the new mattress arrived. _I was barely sick for a day and they nearly killed me with all that cough syrup. I was almost high on it._

He didn’t want to face the men he loved most that night. He wasn’t ready to deal with this today. Instead he settled for pulling the comforter from the bottom of the bed over himself, shoes and tie still on, and prepared to sleep through the rest of the day.

The problem with Antonio was he was very innocent and childish at times. The broken family he came from left him damaged, though he didn’t see the cracks like Gilbert and Francis. He thought he was fine, he really did… he didn’t seem to realize his overreactions to any kind of disagreement, instantly classifying anything negative in life as the same level of pain he felt at home when he was growing up.

Francis went to high school with Antonio and saw first-hand how he reacted around family disputes. One night Francis had come over to his place for dinner and witnessed the awkward conversation the Carriedos put on for company, the small glances and gestures and looks of panic flashing across his friend’s eyes. Francis saw the way Antonio cringed at loud noises and always refused alcohol at parties. He saw the way Antonio shut down when he heard fighting of any kind, even making excuses to leave when there was a heated fight between sitcom characters on TV.

Francis saw the way Antonio blushed and smiled and laughed when he and Gilbert would hug him at once or flirt with him. He saw the way Antonio acted, the totally different person he changed to when he was shown any kind of affection.

Gilbert and Francis both understood how easily Antonio felt emotions and how misguided he was when a new person waved to him or when another driver flipped him off in the car. He had no idea how much he had changed since they moved in together. Gilbert personally hoped to be able to tell him all about it when they’re older and well-adjusted adults with graying hair and wrinkles.

Antonio was well into a dream when Francis arrived home, scoffing about the German food and giving Gilbert a flirty slap on his surprisingly toned ass. Gilbert handed him a plate of food, which had been reheated in the microwave upon arrival, then went back to the counter to wrap another plate in plastic.

“He’s sleeping again?” Francis frowned.

“Ja, he got mad at me about fucking with the Scientology weirdos and stormed off to the room.”

They had nothing else to say but sat together, each thinking of the new and growing moodiness in Antonio. It never once occurred to them that it was even possibly their fault. How could they? They thought they were showing him love. Antonio thought they were smothering him.

* * *

Lovino was beyond exhausted when he finally arrived home. A group of teenagers just quit their jobs earlier that day in a huff because the store manager wouldn’t grant them all Spring break off from work, needing them all to at least work a few hours a week each. Naturally Lovino and a handful of other newer hires were thrown under the bus and offered up by their own department managers to pick up the slack.

He didn’t have a car and he didn’t have the money to waste on bus fare. There was a certain lazy lifestyle Lovino wanted to maintain at home and he’d be damned if he gave up the comfort of his internet and Netflix and pasta just to ride a nasty bus filled with disgusting people and idiot teens who don’t know how to use headphones when listening to their _Wiz Khalifa_ and their _Kid Cudi._

“When did I turn into an old man?” he asked his TV. “I’m fucking bordering twenty-four, not forty-two.”

He was sprawled on the couch, the old beige corduroy couch that he found in the apartment when he moved in after high school. The same piece of trash that he couldn’t be bothered to replace because he’d rather have a couch that smells like moth balls than have to sit on a blanket on the floor.

The old box-set TV blinked overexposed colors before it died right there in the middle of _Hell’s Kitchen_. Lovino stiffened. The TV remained dead despite his intense staring at it.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no!” Stumbling from his seat and scuffling on his sore feet added fuel to the fire as he smacked the side of the television. It emitted a loud, high-pitched squeal before it went silent. It was time. His television salvaged from the nineties was finally dead.  
And so was his soul.

Lovino stalked back to his room, drained of all energy. He tried to sleep but found himself too hot or too cold. Another blanket made him feel stuffy and restrained while only wrapping himself in a sheet and no pajamas left him cold and vulnerable. Each time he would finally drift off was interrupted by him reawakening, sometimes from thirst and sometimes for no reason at all. He couldn’t sleep more than three hours maximum before he would wake up and curse the stars for being too bright and irritating.

Lovino wanted to give up these fruitless attempts but was far too tired to try. He was trapped in this stupid fucking eternal circle of sleeplessness and exhaustion. He sat up for the fourth time that night and kicked off his blanket then slipped off his sweaty tank top. “Fuck me running.”

* * *

It was three in the morning when Antonio woke up with an empty stomach and dry mouth. _Maybe I shouldn’t skip dinner_ , he thought. On either side of him were his boyfriends, Gilbert on his back and Francis facing the wall.

Gilbert was a notoriously heavy sleeper but Francis was easily disturbed. With that in mind, Antonio slowly sat up, gently pushing the blankets down his legs and crawling overtop the albino and easing his feet to the floor with his knees digging into the bed. He stilled when Gilbert moved, mumbling in his sleep.

He was in the kitchen, navigating by the small nightlight in the kitchen outlet, when he noticed how cold his feet were. He knew he was supposed to be mad at Gilbert but he couldn’t help but smile a bit; Gilbert had removed his shoes and tie in his sleep. Francis would never touch anything like his dirty shoes but Gilbert… Gilbert seemed hard-hearted but always showed compassion through such little acts. And now he was barefoot and in the kitchen, as Francis always joked he should be.

_Why can’t I stay mad at them? They upset me! How can I forgive them? Maybe… maybe there’s nothing to forgive?_

He sat at the table, grabbing some bread to fill up on. Slowly he moved to rest his head in his hand, arm leaned on the table. _Why am I so sensitive? Why do I feel better now that I’m away from them?_


	5. Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with porn!

Francis found Antonio asleep at the table hours later when he got up for his morning shift. He threw out the now-stale bread and nudged the tanned shoulder of Antonio until he woke with a startle.

“Get up,” the French man spoke quietly. “You have to be at work in forty minutes.”

Antonio mumbled something incoherent and stumbled from his chair to the bathroom. A few crashing noises and startled shrieks later the water was running. Francis walked around the apartment, cleaning up whatever small messes he could find and leaving bigger issues for Gilbert. It only took a week after moving in to notice Gilbert was an obsessive organizer, to a fault some might say. Antonio might say.

_Antonio must be sore_ , Francis thought to himself. A smirk overtook his face and he tip-toed to the bathroom, sliding in the door. “Toni, my sexy little matador! You must be rather stiff, let Francis help you out…”

Antonio peaked out from around the semi-clear shower curtain. The only censorship of his good parts being the brightly colored fish adorning the midsection of the plastic. The usually-curly hair on the Spaniard’s head was almost black with water and stuck to his face rather than pointing to every other direction like it was inclined to.

That shy smile was all Francis needed. He slid his pants to the ground, shirt thrown to the towel rack, and crept into the steamy bathtub. It was a touch hotter than he’d like but that was Antonio—the man hated the cold with a passion and would swim in lava if it were an option.

_Note to self: remind Antonio lava is bad. Fire is bad. Don’t touch the fire, Toni…_

Francis flicked his wrist, motioning Antonio to face away from him. The Spanish man smiled into the water, facing his head into the hot stream and reddening his skin against the tan. Francis was quite skilled in hair management and Antonio hummed contently when he felt those long nails scratching at his scalp and massaging shampoo into his dark chocolate locks. Antonio leaned back, feeling the cooler chest of Francis, who was more than happy to let him have all the hot water.

Unfortunately for them they had no self-control, leading their contact to grow hotter and desperate and wetter. Francis couldn't resist the sight of Antonio's beautifully tan skin and the way it glistened under the constant stream of the soothing water. He leaned forward, nipping at the sensitive skin before kissing it lightly. Antonio leaned back into it, feeling Francis's cock already hard and making contact with his back.

The blonde instigator reached forward, pleased to feel the hardening member and loosely jerking it to full hardness before getting to work on his boyfriend. They didn't have time for this but they weren't stopping now; Francis forwent the usual ministrations and simply rubbed his erection against Antonio's ass while he quickly jerked the Spaniard off.

Their shower ran cold by the time they were done re-cleaning themselves. Antonio had to admit, he did feel extraordinarily better after all that! That feeling of lightness dissipated, however, when he saw the oven clock and realized he was late for work.

That day Francis let him use the car, insisting it would be faster than by bus. Francis also learned a few hours later on his new public transportation endeavor that he hated busses. And teenagers. And disgusting people who don’t know how to bathe or keep their distance in seating.

* * *

_Oh shit, oh shit, what did I do? What did they find out?_ Thoughts were running through Lovino’s head, all moving faster than the last and colliding into his brain. He was having a normal day, lifelessly walking the aisles and checking the dates on sales signs, when his boss called him over the intercom to come to his office.

Lovino was never called to the office. He wasn’t even called in when he was hired full-time! The store manager just approached him at lunch to say it! And now here he was, waiting in a cheap chair like a fool, waiting for either catastrophic or annoying news. The massive stack of papers in the metal trays on the desk didn’t help. _Those must be my sins. This store knows I hate it. They must know I found out how to steal from the vending machine._

He jumped when a knock came, the lean storewide manger (his boss, everyone’s boss) strolled in and sat down behind his old and dented metal-and-wood desk. Lovino was drawn to his massive eyebrows, those caterpillars dead on his face, those distracting bastards.

_Look at anything else_ , he urged himself. _Look at his stupid nametag or his stupid hair!_

“Vargas,” the man uttered. “I trust you know why you’re here?”

_What is this, middle school? Fuck, I did steal Alfred’s lunch money. Well, he left his change on the table and I’m sure that glutton was about to buy something to worsen his diabetes. Future diabetes. Futurebetes._

“You look nervous.”

“Sorry, Mr. Kirkland,” he squeaked. _I can’t lose this job, I’d have to go work at some fast food place and I’d lose the rest of my **soul** if I had to deal with that disgusting shit they call food._

Arthur chuckled. “No need to apologize, Lovino! You’re not being reprimanded for anything. I was just wanting to see you so I can officially inform you that you’ve been requested to change departments.”

“What?”

“Yes, it appears Heracules has an interest in you. Have you given it any thought? He said you were a natural.”

“Well, no,” Lovino replied. “Honestly, I don’t want to move. I like Shoes and I’m not the best with customer service.”

Arthur began to dig through a pile of papers from the corner of his desk. He paused and pulled out a grey folder from the center of the mass. The hand-written tab read **Referrals** in neat print. The folder was laid down, open, exposing the assorted half-sheets of paper.

“This says otherwise,” the Brit said, paper in hand. “You got a highly satisfied customer last week, on our worst day of all days! He used words like _magnificent_ , _quick_ , and _accommodating_.”

“He did?”

“He did. That _idiot frog-face_ gave you quite the pleased review!”

Lovino sat, stunned. “Frog…? Mr. Kirkland, isn’t that discrimination or something? Or does he have to be pregnant for that?”

Arthur’s face flushed and he averted his eyes down to the folder he was now playing with. “Force of habit, sorry. I went to high school with the man you helped. He’s always liked to mess with me and trash me online through his moron friends… So, uh, that’s how I know you must have been amazing to him. He’d never compliment my men.”

“…Can I go? I have to take inventory.”

Arthur nodded and they both were thankful to end that embarrassing moment. Lovino was almost into the hall and back to safety when he heard his boss call out, “Think about switching, Lovino!”

* * *

Something just felt right about suits. It was weird but it was such a comfort to be in pressed pants and a perfectly knotted tie. He would never admit it but Gilbert was in _love_ with formalwear. It was neat and clean and all his suits had three tight buttons that were a pleasure to push through the perfectly straight buttonholes.

He was overdressed but he also didn’t go to college. If his edge was sharp-dresser than that’s what he would take. If he were lucky the hiring manager would also be dressed smart and very appearance-orientated.

“Where the fuck…” Gilbert scanned the store around him. There were plenty of sales stands and hanging signs denoting the departments and exits but where in the world were the offices at? There was no way they just conducted interviews out in the open where shoppers were!

He caught sight of a man dressed in store colors and carrying a clipboard, checking off the page occasionally. Gilbert approached him, reading the lanyard nametag before calling out, “Excuse me, _Sadik_? Could you point me in the direction of the hiring office? Or at least where Mr. Kirkland is?”

Without looking up Sadik recalled, “Past the Electronics sign and through the big door marked ‘staff.’”

“Thank you,” he walked away. Gilbert felt like God may have been watching out for him, sending him through the perfume department before he could even reach electronics. Now he smells like the store and that has to invoke some kind of positive subconscious response! Then the TV displays after that were amazing and bright, technological like he was fond of, but he trudged on to the door that could change his life.

Inside the door was another room, a waiting room area filled with open desks and computers. There were a few more doors around the room and a couch to wait at. The middle door had a nameplate, **A. Kirkland** in bold.

The wait consisted of him sitting as straight as his spine would allow, nervously patting at his suit because of those few wrinkles forming at the bends. It was an odd relief when a blonde man entered the waiting area, pausing to look at Gilbert.

“Mr. Beilschmidt?”

“That’s me.”

“Hello, there. I’m Mr. Kirkland. Looks like we can start this interview early then. Come with me.”

* * *

_“Vargas to Kirkland’s office. Vargas to Kirkland’s office.”_

For once Arthur had good timing. Lovino had been helping an older man for the past twenty minutes to find shoes and then try them on. He was tired of holding that fragile man’s saggy-skinned ankle and lacing up Oxfords.

“Sorry, sir,” he said a bit too cheery. “My boss paged me but I’ll send another associate to help you finish up.”

_I’m not calling anyone_. Lovino sped through the shoes displays and though the stock room until he was back to Kirkland’s office for the second time that day. _Does he really expect me to decide this soon? It’s been barely four hours. Oh shit, I’ve been here for over four hours._

He knocked on the door and let himself in. “Mr. Kirkland? You wanted to see me?”

_Wait. I’ve been here twelve hours._

“Yes, come on in, Vargas.”

The office was neater than before. All the messy papers had been cleared from the desk and were replaced by a single sheet. Arthur was looking at a computer monitor and clicking here and there. There appeared to be an old man sitting from across Arthur with hair colored to a whiteness even bleaching couldn’t achieve. The white-haired man turned his head and Lovino’s expression changed dramatically.

_What kind of Benjamin Button shit is this? Oh shit, are his eyes red?_

Gilbert smirked in amusement at Lovino’s obvious shock. “I’m albino.”

“I’m Italian.” _Why did I say that? WHY AM I SO STUPID, JESUS CHRIST, LOVINO._ “I mean, I’m of Italian descent.” _NOT BETTER, JACKASS._ “Sorry! I mean I’m normal!”

_CONGRATULATIONS, IDIOT, THIS IS PROBABLY SOME NATIONAL MANAGER AND NOW YOU’RE JOBLESS._

Gilbert choked a bit as his chortles turned to hysterical laughter. He was holding on the edge of the desk and trying not to cry. “Oh mein gott,” he gasped. “Oh mein gott, this is hilarious.”

Arthur hit one last button with extra force. “Done. Vargas, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt. He’s our newest hire. I’ve assigned him to your department and I’d like you to show him around and provide orientation.”

_Oh. OH. This is just some freak about to lose his soul like me! Why was I so nervous? Jesus._ “Orientation? Isn’t that HR’s job?”

“It would be if they weren’t all out due to sickness.” There was an irritation in the Brit’s voice. “Corporate should really know better by now.”

The rest of the hour was spent in that room, Lovino now sitting from a chair he dragged in. Arthur explained the job again to Gilbert, emphasizing the neatness they wanted exemplified by their employees. Most of the time was used to fill in more information on their database and get bank account and other personal necessities recorded. There was something indescribable about the German man that Arthur just had to hire him on the spot… mostly his anal-retentive streak and cleanliness guaranteeing no absences to come.

“We close in fifteen minutes,” Arthur reminded. “Vargas, how about you show Gilbert around the department and we can do orientation this Thursday. I have you both scheduled together starting then.”

Lovino nodded and exited the office, Gilbert on his heels. They met Shoes again and there were still stragglers ruining the rest of what was once clean. “This is Shoes. All we do it clean up other people’s messes and help idiots who can’t read sizes.”

Gilbert laughed again. “Not so formal without Big Brother watching?”

He glared. “Shut the fuck up, new guy.”

“Gilbert.”

“I don’t give a shit. Now you can go wait in the fucking stock room while I clean up and make these people leave. I’ve been here since seven in the morning and I don’t need another idiot throwing questions at me!”

Gilbert shuffled his feet awkwardly. He liked the passive and soft Italian guy from the office better. “Alright. I’ll, uh, just go over there and look at the wall.” He sulked to the other end of the area, head low, doing his best to send Lovino on a beautiful guilt trip.

Fortunately for Lovino he was too dead inside from this job to care.

All these shoes lying about and all this tissue paper littering the floors and benches was efficiently driving Gilbert insane. He looked back, finding Lovino busy with a leaning tower of boxes in his arms, telling random people they were about to close.

The stock room Gilbert retreated to was no better, covered with sticky notes and papers and inventory sheets. The lesser evil was outside, which is where he found himself mechanically and fervently pushing boxes into shelves to straighten them and snatching up torn bits of paper form the ground.

There was no telling where these orphaned boxes on the floor went, so Gilbert simply left them on the benches in stacks. An announcement over the intercom stopped him. The store was officially closed!

“What the fuck.” Gilbert saw Lovino standing across the room. “What—how—”

The once trashed department was spotless. The only sign of mess were the benched shoes, and even they were neater than anything Lovino had ever seen. The floor was completely cleared of trash and even the shelves had been fixed.

“Did you do this or am I seeing things?”

There was a cocky smile on Gilbert’s face. “I thought you didn’t have time for stupid questions. Besides, I was bored.”

Lovino couldn’t believe how nonchalant this man was being. He just cleaned almost the entire department by his self in under ten minutes. He was fast and accurate. He didn’t even throw boxes in empty shelves, he actually just made Lovino’s job easier than when they’re fully staffed on the floor.

That was the first time Lovino had felt threatened by Gilbert, but something heavy in his chest told him it wouldn’t be the last.


	6. Battlefield

**Toni : Where are you???**  
**Toni : Gil?**  
**Toni : My text doesn’t say ‘received’ and im getting scared**  
**Francis : Gilbert? Are you mad at us?**  
**Francis : Why aren’t you home?**  
**Toni : Please be safe**  
**Toni : I love you**  
**Francis : I love you, please come home!**  
**Kirkland : Glad to have you on the team. Welcome to World Powers.**

* * *

The apartment was lit up and Gilbert couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he ascended the stairs. He was about to make his boyfriends the happiest men alive! Or at least the happiest men in the complex.

It occurred to him as he was being tackled to the living room floor that he probably should have warned the gang he’d be home pretty late.

“WE WERE SO SCARED,” Antonio cried, holding onto Gilbert’s neck a little too tightly. “I THOUGHT YOU DIED AND FRANCIS THOUGHT YOU DIED AND I ASKED GOD WHY HE TOOK YOU BUT HE NEVER TOLD ME.”

_“Toni—can’t—breathe—”_

The Spaniard loosened up, taking one hand back to wipe his eyes. “Where were you? I was scared.”

“I know, baby,” Gilbert cooed, petting Antonio’s head. Francis was sitting on the couch, strangely calm for the man who overreacts to any time Antonio had been late. He didn’t even look up, instead reading some thick book, making a show of turning the page.

So this is how it was going to be. Gilbert, having shaken Antonio off his chest, approached the couch and plopped down heavily. The movement shook Francis, resulting in a glare and “Where the hell were you?”

“At my _job_ ,” Gilbert purred.

“Job?” Antonio and Francis asked in unison. Their demeanors changed at breakneck speeds.

“Ja. I went to that place you said was short-staffed when you bought the mattress,” Gilbert hummed to Francis. “ _World Powers Department Store_. I was hired _during_ the interview.

That British guy you love to hate was the manager.”

Francis groaned and wrapped an arm around Gilbert. “Arthur?”

“Ja, ja. _Arthur_. I start work this Thursday.”

The pride swelling up inside Francis’s hairy chest was overwhelming and he was grinning like Antonio. He had been harassing Gilbert for months to get a job and he finally did it—and of his own volition! No more holding out for whatever dream job he could make up every week! He was being a responsible adult and Francis was _so turned on_.

“We can finally get that new house— _Oh_ ,” Gilbert laughed, feeling a poking in his leg. “Franny!”

On his other side was Antonio, finally having picked himself off the carpet to join in on the silent celebration. He was nuzzling his head into Gilbert’s neck, sneakily kissing at it before he switched to hickey mode.

“Toni!”

“ _Mmwhat_ ,” he said around the skin in his lips.

This could be an issue. Here Gilbert was, minding his own business, finally getting a job and coming home to his two handsome boyfriends, and now he’s stuck being kissed and rubbed on!

How dare they! He should be the one asserting his dominance! There was one sure fire way to take control of this sexy situation!

“ _Ahh_ ,” the men on either side moaned out. Gilbert had himself two handfuls of homosexual fantasies.

“To the battlefield!” he cried out, letting one handful go and pointing his index finger in the air like he was about to rush into war.

Groaning and blushing, Francis chided, “For the last time, stop calling the bedroom a battlefield!”

“Love is a battlefield,” Antonio sang, hand still on his crotch.

His comment went ignored as the men had their minds on other things. They stopped their ministrations long enough to rush to their bedroom and strip their clothes off. Gilbert took the longest to remove his interview attire, leaving Francis time to removed the blankets from their bed and Antonio time to throw one of their many bottles of lube on the bed.

Gilbert kicked his boxers off and picked them up to fold with the rest of his clothing. As he worked on making perfect creases, Antonio and Francis drew in deep breaths and rubbed each others' growing erections. They were seated together, glad to have each other while their albino boyfriend was busy satiating his anal-retentive tendencies.

Gilbert turned around to watch his boyfriends slowly jerk each other off and share heated kisses. He smirked at the sight and tackled both the men down, pinning them on their backs with his strong arms and determination.

Francis had groaned in annoyance at the sudden stop in pleasure but Antonio's cheeks heated up at his big, dominating boyfriend. His tanned hand reached up to stroke Gilbert's muscles and paid no attention to the blonde man slipping out from under Gilbert's hold, leaving him to be pinned alone.

The lube was snatched up and rubbed between the soft hands of Francis, warming the item before it would be used. He then flipped the cap open and deviously poured a generous amount on his hands with a sneaky smile directed at Antonio. Said Spaniard gasped when he felt slicked fingers reaching between his and Gilbert's stomachs, sliding past his dick, and slinking between his legs.

He whined but said nothing, tilting his head back at the feeling of a slender finger breaching into him. Gilbert rubbed Antonio's hip roughly and leaned down to kiss him with the same force. Francis giggled at the mess they were making of their poor, innocent boy; he was tickled pink by the lewd moans and the way Antonio bucked his hips in either direction, torn between rubbing cocks with Gilbert or feeling more of Francis's fingers.

Once he was sufficiently stretched open he was begging for it, with Gilbert more than ready to oblige. Gilbert flipped Antonio onto his stomach and pulled his hips up fast enough to send the tanner man's face into the mattress below. He didn't have time to adjust to the new position before he was being impaled by Gilbert's thick cock and gasping into the sheets. The pounding began and Antonio gripped the sheets desperately.

Francis reached out and helped Antonio onto his elbows, no longer smothered by the bed. Antonio didn't have to open his eyes to know what Francis wanted; he took in a final deep breath before opening his mouth allowing Francis to guide his cock into that ready mouth. Antonio, in true adorable fashion, gave the head a quick kiss before taking it into his mouth and sucking hard like Gilbert's thrusts.

With an arm wrapped around one of Francis's legs for some kind of leverage, and with a hand scratching into his curly hair by either boyfriend, Antonio was stuck in place.   
And _fuck_ if he didn't love every second of being taken like this.

Francis's moans grew shorter and he didn't have time to warn Antonio before shooting his cum down the man's throat, causing him to gag momentarily before expertly swallowing it down. He finally opened his mouth again to breathe in fresh air and cried out as Gilbert hit his prostate over and over.

Antonio came quietly, exhausted from the activities, and waited patiently for Gilbert to finish and pull out just in time to cover his back in warm seed.

* * *

 

The three lay together in their bed, for once Gilbert being content with the middle spot. It allowed him to cuddle both his men, though he’d never admit he likes the post-sex affections. They were veiled in a thin sheet and completely wiped out. Threesomes were strenuous but they would never leave out a partner who could partake in the fun.

The chest of Gilbert was broad and pleasing to the eye. He was pale and had perfect skin, untouched by the sun or any birth marks. The skin was taut over his pecks and the Iron Cross pendant was missing, left behind on the dresser before he went to his interview. Antonio enjoyed running his hand over the skin and muscle, pushing at it and reveling in the lack of softness.

Something was missing. Something was gone and wrong and it felt like he was about to hiccup but couldn’t. There was a confusing emotion swirling inside the Spaniard’s head and his gut settled on classifying it as guilt. He had nothing to feel bad about, what was happening?

Gilbert stretched his back, moving the arm nestled under Antonio’s head. He yawned slowly and rubbed his hand over Antonio’s bare back. Across that lovely expanse of chest Francis mirrored the yawn, holding onto the other muscular arm like a teddy bear.

Gilbert and Francis were both long asleep when Antonio rolled over, leaving the bed to walk around the apartment. On the coffee table were his pants, which he pulled on sloppily. His smartphone was found on the kitchen counter where he had been when Gilbert finally came home. He snatched it up and unlocked the front door before slipping into the hall.

The hall was empty save for a grocery bag snagged in someone’s door. He held his phone to his ear, waiting as it rang, praying someone pick up. The buzzes ended and he was left alone and disappointed.

This gnawing feeling was getting worse. The hand gently pushing into his stomach did nothing to console him, it didn’t make it better nor worse. _It’s definitely guilt_ , he told himself. _I’m not sick. I feel bad because I did something bad… what did I do? Do they know? **I** don’t even know._

He sat down on the flooring and tapped his head back into the wall. Breathing was getting harder as he remembered the last time he felt this way.

* * *

_Antonio was waiting anxiously at the park, bending his knees to tilt the swing he occupied. Francis sounded so different on the phone. That tone was one he’d never heard before, definitely not for a positive conversation. Francis didn’t sound mad (thank God) but he sounded… mournful? Antonio sniffled a bit, guilt crashing into him that he’s scared when maybe someone died. Maybe._

_Hopefully._

_The sky was muted and made the world appear dreary and desolate. He was waiting around longer than he could remember, stomach stabbing into pieces and bleeding out into his chest, the cold blood running into his legs and shaking him. The arrival of Francis did nothing more than to convert the stabbing into a smashing of mentally-prepared pain._

_“Hey,” he said lowly._

_Francis sat down next to him, his own swing crooked and creaky. “Hey. Thanks for meeting me here. I thought it’d be best if I… I talked about this somewhere you wouldn’t feel too trapped in.”_

_The pain throbbed._

_“W-what is it?” Antonio looked away. “Can we… just do this quick?”_

_The swings gave an ugly squeak when Antonio tensed his legs, trying his best to be still. He was taught not to show emotion and that upbringing was making its way back into his interactions with Francis after years of trying to kill it._

_“It’s about—well—this is hard…”_

_“Are we over?”_

_Francis swallowed. “I don’t know. It’s more than that.”_

_The pain reached up for Antonio’s throat._

_It was getting darker and the Frenchman took it as a sign to get this over with. “You remember that guy we met at Roderich’s and Elizaveta’s Halloween party?”_

_“…Gilbert?”_

_“Oui, Gilbert… well, anyway, this is about him…”_

_Numbness. There was no stabbing or smashing or cold spreading through his veins. All there was left was the thumping of his own heartbeat in his ears. Antonio knew he had a reason to feel so distressed. Francis knew—Francis **knows**._

_“I’m sorry!” he blurted out, tears in his eyes. Francis stilled and watched him curiously. “You’re mad and I understand! Lo siento, Francis, I’m terrible!”_

_Francis reached out and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, pulling it from its vice grip on his jeans. “What are you sorry about?_ I’m _supposed to be apologizing.”_

_Antonio held his breath. “You?”_

_With a softened voice and his finest pair of kid gloves, Francis rubbed Antonio’s hand with his thumb and said, “Calm down. You didn’t do anything. I should have known you’d find a way to blame yourself.”_

_Antonio sniffled again and used his free hand to rub at his eyes and run his fingers through his hair. “W-what are you sorry about then? If it’s not me?”_

_Francis averted his eyes momentarily. “I’ve been talking to Gilbert a lot lately… and, I’m sorry, amour, but I’ve started to develop feelings for him… I still love you, but I think… I think I might love him, too.”_

_“I see,” the Spaniard bit out. “Do you love him more than me?”_

_“Of course not. But this is going to be a problem and I needed you to know. You deserve better than a man who will fall in love with other people, even if I’m still in love with you.”_

_“So… you called me here, not to break up with me, but for_ me _to break up with_ you _?”_

_“I came here to give you an out.”_

_A few drops of rain fell on them, the sky darkened and distorted by clouds. Antonio stared up into the atmosphere, mind whirring with contemplation._

_“What if I wanted to give you an out?” he asked. Francis was surprised to hear the change in tone. He sounded flat, no longer choking back tears. Then, playful, with a small smile,_

_“What if? Then who gets Gil?”_

_Francis was floored. “Wait. Are you saying_ you _like him?”_

_“I thought you found out I had a crush,” he admitted. “It’s actually a relief that you like him, too.”_

_“This is so messed up.”_

_“I know.”_

_They retreated to a nearby park shelter when the rain picked up. Underneath the elevated roof were park benches and a small bathroom they were sure had never been cleaned. Lighting struck the dull sky and they watched, calmly, cuddled together on a bench. Their fingers were intertwined and every few minutes they’d attempt to speak about their revelation._

_“I guess if we break up we could fight over him,” Antonio suggested._

_“If we want to cheat we can go to the same guy,” Francis laughed._

_“He could be our third.”_

_“Our third?”_

_Antonio blushed. “Well, you know… we did talk about trying new things… in the bedroom…”_

_Francis burst into laughter. “I love you, you know that?” Antonio sheepishly smiled and breathed into his hands. Francis, meanwhile, had his phone out and to his ear._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Shh, I’m on the phone!” They waited. “Hello, Gilbert!” Antonio’s eyes widened and he dived at Francis, trying to knock the phone away. “Oh, nothing! I was just calling to— **ow!** —see what you were doing, maybe later if you’re not busy we can— **fuck, Antonio!** —sorry, we can… wait, really? You want to? Wonderful! See you tonight, bye.”_

_Sprawled on the cement of the enclosure lay Antonio, mortified at what he knew for a fact was just agreed upon. “I was kidding!”_

* * *

_No, I wasn’t. I wanted Gilbert just as much as he did. At least Francis had the loyalty to tell me. I would have kept it to myself and hoped it went away…_ The phone began to ring and he squeaked, scared by the sudden sound.

“Hola? Emma! Thank god, I’m sorry I woke you but I really need to talk. Yeah. I think I’m falling out of love with Gilbert… Yeah, Francis, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pornographic part isn't beta'd or anything since I wrote it in before posting (since AO3 is the site with the mature stuff and the original version has no porn on fanfiction.net).
> 
> Mistakes are because I didn't want to shame myself by re-reading porn I _just_ wrote.


	7. Hey

“I don’t know,” Antonio whined into the phone. “But we had sex and I didn’t feel the afterglow when we cuddled! I love cuddling, Emma! I was banned from two pet stores because I can’t stop! But lying there in bed with his arm around me… it just felt different. I felt like I was cheating but both my boyfriends were there!”

It was becoming an increasingly long night. Antonio was cold in the poorly-insulated hallway. It was a normal temperature but he was never satisfied with anything less than summer heats. His neck was stiff and pained him to keep upright and the floor was hard on his ass.

“ _Sometimes people fall out of love_ ,” Emma responded, voice flat but sincere. “ _It’s not impossible that you fell out of love with both of them_.”

“Don’t tell me that,” he grumbled, allowing his head to dip between his arms and hang low. The pain lightened as his muscles stretched. “I can’t stop loving them. We’ve been together for years! N-next month is our anniversary. We always celebrate when Gilbert joined us…”

“ _It takes three years to fully know someone_.”

“It’s been six years… eight with Francis…”

Emma sighed into the receiver and tapped at the back of the thin metal device. “ _It’s okay, Toni. Hey, it’s getting pretty late, could we continue this later?_ ”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered. His eyes felt heavy with sleep and swollen with emotion.

“ _It’s going to be okay_ ,” Emma reassured. “ _Let’s meet up and talk about this in person. You’ll feel better when I’m there to hug you afterward, yeah?_ ”

He absentmindedly nodded and mumbled into the phone. They agreed to meet up later that day and talk everything out. Antonio was falling asleep against the wall and found himself startling awake minutes after the call ended, phone dropped on his stomach and back sore. He was limping back inside on a sleeping leg, unable to make it back to the bedroom.

The couch was good enough for him, though disconcerting for Francis the next day to pass by his sleeping boyfriend there, away from him, sneaking out of bed again. Gilbert, however, took it more seriously than the blonde. His carpool with Francis to work was solemn. They chose not to speak… it would have made it too real for both of them to voice the fears they hoped was in their own heads.

* * *

Inside the department store were janitors cleaning missed spots and employees looking over papers and weekly ads, replacing expired sales tags as they went. This was everyone except the surly and undersexed man napping on a mattress back in the cold and dark stock room.

Lovino yawned and rolled around on the plastic encasing the square piece of heaven. He ignored the irritating scratching noise of his shoes rubbing against the paper sticker on the bottom.

The bed shook and he regained his senses, finally hearing the sounds of stockroom workers moving dollies and smashing metal together. Disgruntled men were hacking and coughing and murmuring about that damn _Shoes Bitch_ sleeping on the merchandise. Again.

Lovino begrudgingly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbled through the stock room and back to the sales floor. The albino freak had already showed up for a full day of work, though he was purely there to do the “required” training for the job.

It was ridiculous to Lovino that someone whose entire job is straightening up shoes requires hours of time wasted on reading and quizzes and signing agreements not to sexually harass anyone. Really? Lovino had to go over the bailer rules! When is he going to need to use the bailer? Never, that’s when! And yet he spent half an hour reading about it when he first joined the World Powers Department Store.

Meanwhile Gilbert was trying not to fall asleep. His eyes were already strained from staring at the dinosaur of a computer monitor watching training videos. He wanted nothing more than to be on the floor already where he could scare little kids who’ve never seen an albino before.

“Just four more hours until lunch,” he reassured himself. “Maybe I should go buy some sunglasses… bright-ass monitors…”

* * *

“ _Fuckshit_ ,” Lovino hissed after his head smacked into the table in the break room. Those twenty minutes in the back of the store was the only sleep he got in days. This insomnia was killing him. Now he couldn’t even enjoy lunch because he was always nodding out! Why couldn’t he fall asleep at home? Why?!

There was a snickering as Alfred entered the small white room, carrying a bag of McDonalds. “Shoes wear you out, Vargas?”

“Choke on your fat, Jones.”

The patriotic man laughed and sat down across from the Italian despite the obvious glare. “You’re too funny, Lovino! But really, why are you so tired all the time? You seem like the napping type.”

He groaned. “I am, but I haven’t gotten a decent night of sleep since high school.”

“When was that, like ten years ago?”

“I’M NOT THAT FUCKING OLD YOU LITTLE SHIT.”

Alfred looked genuinely remorseful. “Sorry, bro. Anyone over nineteen just seems old.”

“Twenty-three isn’t that far away, chubs.”

Alfred smirked and started digging into his greasy food. “I wouldn’t be so mean to me, I could have the answer to all your problems.”

Lovino looked at him curiously. “And what would that be?”

Alfred looked around the room, confirming it was empty, before leaning in and whispering, “Pot.”

“You mean weed?”

“Yeah!” Alfred’s eyes twinkled. “My little brother sells. He used to have problems sleeping and now he sleeps like a baby every night!”

“I don’t know, I’ve never… you know…”

“You’ve never smoked before?”

A blush spread across his tanned cheeks. “Shut up, I was too busy making sure my jackass brother didn’t do anything stupid to be stupid myself.”

The grumpiness in the Italian was building up once more. On the rare occasions he was rested when he arrived at work he was a delight, bringing in pasta for the break room and offering to help customers instead of being inclusive to pretty women. Alfred knew what he had to do.

“Look, dude, I got some in my car… You can come to my place after work, or we can go to yours, and you can try it. Trust me, you’ll sleep like you just ran a marathon.”

Maybe it was the painful bricks in his eyelids or the burning desire to finally sleep a full night that made Lovino agree, mumbling, “Okay,” before he laid his head down on the table.

* * *

“Was the ceiling always this neat?”

“No, bro. That’s just the pot.”

The two young men were in Alfred’s apartment, which reeked of marijuana, laying on the carpet. Alfred’s brother, Matthew, was out on a delivery, leaving them alone. A lone bong was abandoned on the coffee table.

“I’m so comfortable,” the Italian hummed. “Oh my god, Al. Oh my god.”

“Get this, Lovino. Food.”

“Oh my god, please, please!” _Wow, food never sounded this amazing before. It’s probably because I skipped lunch. Lun-ch. Cht_. “Cht.”

“What?”

“Lunch sounds funny.”

Alfred just snickered, thinking of how cute first-timers were. “I’ll go find the Cheetohs. We have Netflix, _Family Guy_ is pretty good high.”

Lovino was grumbling when he lifted himself from the floor to the couch, struggling to find the Wii remote that was right in front of him on the table. “I don’t like _Family Guy_. It’s really stupid.”

“Trust me,” the American called from the kitchen. “Stupid things are hilarious.”

* * *

“Al, who is the strange man in my bed?”

“Lovino. Don’t wake him, he’s got crazy insomnia.”

The American was curled up on the couch, watching random cartoons on the TV with a Twinkie in his hand. Matthew rolled his eyes and picked up a can of air freshener before liberally misting the room. He took the bong to the kitchen to clean it and put a flower in it.

“Al, I’m not going to jail because you can’t clean up.”

“Come on, Mattie, I was going to later!”

Matthew glared.

“It was for a good cause.”

The Canadian joined him on the couch, pulling out a joint from his pocket. “If he’s the same guy who you always talk about then I’ll forgive this. But I get your bed tonight.”

“Fine, I like the couch.”

The brothers finished the night enjoying each other’s company. In the next room Lovino was wrapped up in Matthew’s soft blankets, holding to a stuffed polar bear doll. He had passed out not even an hour after smoking, which was a small miracle. Finally he would sleep peacefully.

* * *

“Dude, get up, it’s time for work.”

Lovino mumbled and groaned before rolling over in bed, holding the blankets tightly to himself.

“Mattie wants his bed back and it’s almost seven!” There was no response. Alfred ripped the blankets off and earned himself a hissing noise from the volatile man. “DUDE. If you get up now I’ll let you take a hit and we can go get McDonalds for breakfast.”

Lovino didn’t like who he was becoming—a person who ate trash with the trash from work… but he skipped dinner the night before and being a little lifted at work seemed like a good idea at the time. It’s not like people actually shopped this early on a workday!

As it turned out, being high was fun when you were awake for it. Lovino actually enjoyed being awake that morning and he liked eating garbage with Alfred in the car. The blonde was tolerable and, admittedly, funny. Looks like today work won’t tear more pieces of his soul out.

Lovino was less than enthused when Gilbert was already on the floor of the department and nervously sweeping the carpet. There were only a few bits of torn paper to be cleaned but he treated it like a toxic spill.

“New guy,” Lovino called. _Did I say that right? Fuck, was that slurred? No, I’m just being paranoid_. “The fuck you doing here for?”

Gilbert stopped and looked the Italian up and down. “Did you wear that yesterday?”

“No, all my clothes looks the same,” he sarcastically replied. “I spent the night at a friend’s, the fuck does it matter?”

Gilbert began sweeping again. “It doesn’t. And I’m here because I finished the online training.”

Lovino paused and stared at the albino, getting lost in his thoughts a few times before finally remembering what he was doing. “How the fuck can you be done? It took me weeks.”

“I’m productive.”

_Sounds like another German asshole I know_ , he thought to himself. “Well I’m not supposed to train you until tomorrow.”

“Heracules said you can start today,” Gilbert shot back. There was an edge to his voice and it was obvious he wasn’t in the same high spirits as he was on his first day. _What happened in the past day?_ “And he said they just hired on a new group of people so we all have to get drug tested this weekend. How unawesome. I have to waste my time to prove I’m not a crack addict!”             

Lovino chuckled and walked past him to check out the stock room and any new deliveries he may need to unload. “Sucks to suck, jerk. Have fun with your test.”

He stopped dead in his heals when Gilbert called back, “They’re testing the seasonal hires, too. The ones who stayed, anyway. That’s what Mr. Kirkland said.”

_MOTHER DICK_. Lovino rushed through the swinging door to hide. _How? Did Alfred fucking set me up?! No, he did the pot, too! Wait, does he know how to cheat? FUCKING SHIT, I’M ABOUT TO BE UNEMPLOYED._

Gilbert stared at the door the Italian busted into. He felt a twinge of concern in his stomach and, against his better judgement, followed the frantic man. He found Lovino with his head in his hands and leaning against a shelf of boots. “What’s up, buttercup?”

Lovino jumped and let out a strangled scream. “Christ! Don’t sneak up on people like that!”

Gilbert sighed and averted his eyes to a pile of new sales tags. “What’s your deal, Mario? Are you always this squirrely in the morning?”

Lovino was silent and turned away, faking work as he mindlessly tapped boxes as if checking the order. “I have trouble sleeping,” he admitted, the drug relaxing him enough to open up. “And last night Al gave me something to help, and it did, and now I’m going to fail the drug test and lose my job.”

The self-proclaimed Prussian watched him. He had just met this man but he was sure the bitter Italian wasn’t the type to just unload his issues, especially to people he was swearing at from first call.

“I’m already in debt from college and my apartment is falling apart. This was the only place close enough to my place to walk to work and I can’t afford a car to get anywhere further…”

A feeling close to guilt tugged at the albino’s heart. Empathy, he decided. This guy must be so mean because he’s basically a _Les Miserables_ character. Gilbert’s face fell and he did what Antonio would have wanted him to… _helped_.

“Look, Mario. My roommates are clean. If you need help passing… we got your back.”

Lovino turned around and hoped his red eyes were being associated with the emotional moment rather than the stoner eyes he acquired. “Are you serious?”

“Ja. I actually am,” he said, surprising even himself. “You can come to my place after work. You can explain the job and not waste time here, and I can feed you and help you pass.”

The gesture was enough to bring tears to Lovino’s eyes, which he rubbed at and tried to suppress. He was too proud to ask for help but being offered, out of the blue, by someone he didn’t even know… it gave his lightened mind some hope. Maybe he could actually… be friends with this guy?

_I know I’m high but let’s be realistic,_ he told himself. _This is a one-time thing. I’ll munch on his stupid food and then I’ll never go back._

“Thank you,” he said in a hushed voice. “Thank you.”

* * *

It was nice to get driven from work two days in a row. Lovino was in awe of the working AC and automatic windows. The only car he ever had was an old rusting Toyota he shared with Feliciano and lost after a minor accident that totaled the front. It was more work than it was worth to fix it, so they went without.

Gilbert had spent the first half of the ride on the phone, talking loudly about work and the guest. He had explained an hour before they left that his boyfriend had dropped the car off since he was leaving work early and wanted Gilbert to have a car. Gilbert explained a searing hatred for busses, which was understandable, though his reasoning was for the germs and threat of it being dirty.

Gilbert the germaphobe. Weird.

What Lovino didn’t know was Francis’s reasoning to leaving the car—an attempt to smooth things over and cheer up the Prussian, who had been down since Antonio left their bed more and more.

They arrived at the apartment complex before six, luckily not having to suffer working through open-to-close again. The building was considerably nicer than Lovino’s, with vines that grew for aesthetic and not for being unattended weeds. There were clear parking spots rather than washed-away paint and gravel. There was definitely not a meth lab hidden inside (Lovino needed to speak to that upstairs neighbor—it smelled like death half the time in the halls).

Gilbert was laughing to himself at how adorable his coworker was being, staring at every surface of the building like a child in a candy shop. It reassured him what he was doing was the right thing since middle-class people didn’t tend to treat an average complex like the White House.

They opted for the elevator in the lobby, more for Lovino’s continued amazed looks to continue than anything. They reached their floor and stepped out, walking through the hall until they reached the door. Voices were drifting through the crack and Lovino felt cheated that stupid Gilbert would invite him over when his boyfriend already had company.

When they entered the apartment Lovino felt _more_ than cheated—he felt absolutely **fucked**. There was a clear view to the kitchenette, where the blonde man from his day in Home Goods was drinking from a glass of wine while talking, in close proximity, to another man.

A man with curly, chocolate hair and tanned skin. They laughed and spoke softly and moved flirtatiously for men cooking. Gilbert slammed the door, calling their attention to him and the now panicked Italian.

_I know these people. I know these people, I KNOW THESE PEOPLE._

“The awesome me is home!” he cried out. “Antonio, Francis, this is the guy from work I said was coming for dinner!”

The two men in the kitchen stopped their groping and general displays of affection to look over. Antonio’s previous smile faltered. The two men, long estranged, kept an awkward and uncomfortable eye-contact until the Spaniard’s face lifted, recognition in his eyes. “Hey, Lovi!”

Lovino’s face drained of all color. Mumbling, he replied, “Hey, bastard.”


	8. Lots of Tea

_It’s okay, Lovino, this is no big deal… just a dinner with your coworker who happens to be fucking the guy you tried to hit on last month. No big d—is that the fucking mattress lady? Why is god punishing me?_

The four were sat around the table, all eyes burning through the antsy Italian. It was bad enough to hit on someone’s boyfriend, but to hit on two guys’ boyfriend? All gathered together? Ready to judge him? As if they had room to judge!

“How have you been, Lovi?” The Spaniard—whose fault this all is—asked. He had a naiveté to him and eyes wide like a child on Christmas. Or maybe that was always how he looked.

He stumbled over his words and stuttered out, “G-good. Thanks.”

Francis gave up on holding his tongue. He set his wine glass down and turned to the tanner boyfriend. “Toni, do you know, uh….”

“Lovino.”

“Merci. Do you know Lovino?”

The Spaniard smiled again. “Oh, si, si! He’s the man I met at the bus stop a while back. Remember? I missed the bus and you got all worried?”

Francis blushed and went back to his alcohol. That dark feeling came back to Gilbert but he ignored it, choosing to push it back instead. “Anyway. There’s a drug test this weekend and Mario here needs one of you to piss in a bottle for him.”

“GILBERT.” Lovino screeched, not even realizing he had used the man’s real name. His face was beet-red and he dropped the fork once held tightly in his fist.

Antonio giggled, holding a hand to his mouth in a weak attempt to hide it. “He’s red like a little tomato!”

Lovino turned his attention to the handsome man. “YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH, YOU JERK BASTARD!”

The other two men were laughing as well, Francis having choked on his wine momentarily. Lovino felt somewhat grateful that they weren’t enraged at him screaming at their precious little man-child boyfriend… he was also incredibly enraged he was being made into a joke.

“Screw this, I can just find another job somewhere else!” He stood angrily, ready to walk out, only stopped by the pale hand gripping his wrist. Gilbert had a body of muscle under his uniform, none of which Lovino knew existed.

“Calm down, we’re only teasing you! Franny, Toni, you both clean?”

They each nodded in affirmation.

“You guys okay with helping him?”

They nodded again.

Lovino pulled his arm free and stood there awkwardly before slowly sitting back down, his blush still burnt into his cheeks. Gilbert resumed eating and said between bites, “You’re set, Mario.”

“I swear to god, if you keep calling me _Mario_ …”

Gilbert smirked, “What you gonna do about it?”

Lovino stared into those red orbs intently before whispering, “ _Hasselhoff_.” This only caused another round of choking while the Prussian sputtered and the Spaniard held his face in his hands. Francis had to excuse himself to wipe the tears from his eyes.

Maybe these bastards aren’t so bad.

* * *

After dinner they went more into details about the test. Antonio had volunteered to be the donor of sorts and Lovino agreed to come back to the apartment the morning of the test. They talked the young adult into joining them drink, something he hadn’t been able to afford for quite some time. His tolerance was low and his thirst was high. This resulted in Lovino’s first night spent sleeping at the Beilschimdt-Bonnafoy-Carriedo residence.

The man had fallen asleep, sitting upright on their couch. The three just watched him for a while, finding great pleasure in this new presence. It wasn’t often they got a nice, _handsome_ young man to sleep over. It was reminiscent of the first time they each slept together—in the actual _sleeping_ sense.

“He’s cute,” Francis whispered. “His hair looks soft.”

“Si, he does look like he’d be nice to cuddle.”

“He’s kind of small, like a chick…”

The three exchanged looks before the albino eased Lovino into his arms and carried him to the bedroom. For someone with insomnia he sure was sleeping easy. They tucked him under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. They wanted to lay down with him and cuddle him and—for the Prussian—pretend he was cuddling his boyfriends like when they used to be lankier and smaller.

“This is getting creepy,” he said in a hushed voice. The other two sadly agreed and they retreated back to the couch. So much for fun cuddle time.

They ended up dividing the couch but realized it would be too uncomfortable to all sleep on it. Gilbert relented and took the floor while Antonio and Francis struggled to fit on the couch.

* * *

_Why am I back in this stupid fucking classroom?_ Lovino looked around the room, not finding the same blank faces he was used to. At the front of the room was that Spanish bastard, doodling away at the board. He turned around, face with the same excited expression as a puppy.

Something swooned within the Italian.

Lovino gripped the side of the desk and began to right himself—instead of sliding out the side his hip smacked another wooden border. This desk had railings on both sides attaching the desk and chair.

_What the fuck? How did I even sit down here?_

He was about to call out for help but stopped when he looked up and saw Antonio, no longer alone, standing with Francis and Gilbert. The three stood together, looking perfect as ever, like they were each completing one-another. They smiled and laughed and touched each other chastely.

Lovino felt his heart shrink and his stomach contort. The attempts to free himself halted and he sat, defeated, as the men in the room exited together without any thought to him.

The lighting in the room flickered before finally going out, leaving him alone in the toneless environment, missing the blank faces from before.

* * *

It was Friday night, Lovino’s shift was long over and he was stuck at his apartment while his brother relentlessly teased him while making their dinner.  _Why do I keep inviting him over? Oh, right, the free food._

“Big brother has a crush!”

“I do not.”

You slept in their bed!”

“…alone, after they got me drunk.”

“Come on, fratello! I knew you’d meet him again!”

“You forgot about him faster than I did!”

“And now you’ve made an impression on all the polygamists! Maybe you can apply.”

Lovino sat up, scratching his head. “You don’t _apply_ for relationships, Feli.”

The younger brother’s face was overtaken by a sheepish expression before he ducked back into the kitchen and hummed awkwardly.

“Oh my god. Did you fucking fill out paperwork with Ludwig?”

“I can’t hear you, I’m cooking!”

“Jesus Christ, Feli!”

Inside the kitchenette the smaller man hummed to tune out his brother, purposefully banging random metal pots and pans. Lovino scrunched his face in irritation and sighed into the dusty couch pillow that every old women seemed to have. The next day he would have to meet up again with stupid damn A.. At…. Anthony? _Goddamn it, not again._ He would have to meet with whats-his-name to cheat the system.

“How much trouble am I going to get in?”

Feliciano became quiet and stopped his movements. “For cheating? Probably just fired.”

“Fucking great.”

Lovino groaned loudly. Tomorrow he had to meet the sexy man he couldn’t have, get his piss, somehow smuggle it into the lab, and wait to see if he gets a termination call. His blood ran cold and his empty stomach cramped with stress and anxiety.

His cracked phone buzzed and he glanced at it before he would distract himself with Feliciano in the kitchen. On the screen was a text from a new number with a name he specifically did not program in but was somehow there.

**Toni: Hola, Lovi! It’s Toni! I saved our numbers when you were asleep and texted my phone from yours! We never exchanged info! See you tomorrow! :)**

“Oh Jesus Christ, Feli. This would be so much creepier if he wasn’t hot.”

Feliciano laughed and read the message, cooing how _it’s totally not creepy, it’s cute and a sign to date!_ Lovino chucked his phone back at the couch and grabbed the plates from the overhead cabinet.

“You’re just as creepy.”

* * *

**Lovi : Wake the fuck up, we have to meet up.**

**Lovi : Did I fucking stutter?**

**Lovi : So help me God I will burn your apartment down**

Antonio yawned and grabbed the annoying phone from his nightstand. Gilbert was dead asleep at the other end, though Francis was also awake and incredibly irritated.

**Toni : Sorry Lovi.**

**Lovi : Lovino**

**Toni : I’ll wake Gilbert and we can meet at the 7Eleven?? Francis has the day off, I want him to sleep in**

**Lovi : I don’t fucking care, just don’t be late**

The Spaniard eased out of bed and moved the blankets up to cover the blonde, movements stiff and mechanical. Even shaking Gilbert by the hard, muscled shoulder felt so rehearsed. Where was the soft glow of warmth and joy he used to feel when he was with them? Just to be near them had made him feel like he was outside on a breezy summer day.

All he felt now was the bitter cold of morning and a nervous twitch in his gut that there might be another argument that night.

* * *

Lovino hadn’t slept that night and was downing his third bad coffee of the day outside the gas station. He was sitting outside the doors, waiting to see the white hair or tanned skin of the morons who were supposed to be helping him. They arrived thirty minutes before Lovino’s scheduled test time, leaving the Italian jittery and ready to throw up.

Gilbert parked the car and Antonio hopped out, muttering apologies and excuses about falling asleep. The small hickey on his neck didn’t go unnoticed by the ticking time bomb full of coffee and nerves. Antonio approached him and Gilbert stayed back in the car, ready to take off as soon as they were done.

“Come on, bastard,” Lovino growled, standing up and patting the gravel off his pants. “Let’s go already.”

The two entered the convenience store and cringed at the flickering fluorescent light above the register. They rushed to the back and into the men’s bathroom, which looked like a crime scene. Antonio was standing odd, twitching every now and then.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Lovino asked, almost concerned.

“I really have to… you know.”

“Then fucking do it, that’s why we’re here!”

“Gil said we should wait til the last s-second! So it stays warm!”

“That’s so gross!”

“The cups they test it in measures the heat! You’ll fail if it’s not body temperature!”

_Wait, what? Goddamn it, another layer of shit to this fucking day!_ Lovino inhaled sharply and reached around in his pocket for his supplies, scotch tape and a zip-lock bag. “Whatever, when you do it just do it in here. I was going to tape it to my leg to sneak it in so maybe it’ll stay w… warm.” He shuddered. This was, by far, the grossest thing he’s ever had to do.

Antonio was beginning to dance around the small bathroom, humming to himself. Lovino was having fun watching him make a fool of himself. It became ten minutes until the appointment time, a relief to the Spaniard who grabbed the bag and rushed into a stall.

Lovino slid into the next one, waiting with tape in hand. “Are you fucking done yet?”

“Almost! I drank a _lot_ of tea today.”

“ _God_.”

They finished cheating the system in the small bathroom and reemerged from the stalls, Lovino having a harder time making eye-contact than the cheerful entity that is Antonio.

“Jesus Christ, why do I keep meeting you when you’re being a weirdo pervert?”

Antonio feigned a hurt expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lovi! I was only hanging out with you in a men’s bathroom at noon for twenty minutes! Nothing weird about that! That’s how Gilbert’s and my second date went. We basically went on a date, Lovi.”

Lovino turned bright red. “D-date?! That wasn’t a date, you creep! Lovino Vargas doesn’t go on dates with weird _Sister Wives_ men in public bathrooms! Not when all we were doing was—was—”

“Taping bags of pee to your leg?”

“SHUT UP.”

“That’s what happened!” Antonio laughed and continued to tease Lovino as they exited the gas station and approached Gilbert and the waiting car. Gilbert yawned, turned the keys, and drove the three down the street to the building they were assigned tests in. He left the car running as he jumped out, having an appointment just before Lovino. Lovino waited in the car, afraid to leave just yet.

“I’m never smoking pot again.”

Antonio giggled and turned in the passenger seat to better view the Italian. “Why not? This is fun!”

“Your idea of ‘fun’ is pretty warped, isn’t it?”

“I just like to find fun in everything.” Lovino raised an eyebrow and rolled his eyes before he checked the time and began to exit the car. He paused outside the vehicle, awkwardly feeling the bag beneath his pants. His face lit up like a firecracker when Antonio slipped in, “Good luck! Our second date won’t be in a bathroom!”

_Second date?_


	9. Happy Miserable

Emma hummed and nodded as Antonio vented all his pent-up emotions and frustrations. She had been worried for her good friend since his upset and somewhat frantic phone call earlier that morning. Antonio wasn’t the type to get so flustered—he was always laughing and smiling and being lovey to his boyfriends. She couldn’t fully understand how he could have two men in his life but it made sense; he emitted enough love for an army.

“Go on,” she ushered when the Spaniard fell silent. He nodded slowly and sighed.

“I love them, but… it’s just not the same anymore. They like to fight over such _stupid_ things, Emma! And, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it when they stop and tell me it’s okay, but… I’m just not a kid anymore! They’re not my parents I’m afraid of—they’re my boyfriends and they need to treat me like it!”

“They don’t treat you like a boyfriend?”

“They do during sex,” he grumbled. “They forget I’m not a scared high-schooler anymore… Francis forgets, at least. I didn’t know Gil back then but he doesn’t know how to act sometimes and he mirrors Franny. And Franny only ever coddles me like I’m five, not twenty-six!”

Emma reached across the small table and rubbed a thumb over Antonio’s broad hand. She had known him as long as Francis. Unlike Francis, she didn’t continue to smother Antonio, instead preferring to treat him like his age regardless of past abuse.

“Maybe you three need a break,” she suggested cautiously. “It’s been almost ten years, sometimes people need room to breathe. If you stay when you’re unhappy it’ll only get worse.”

Antonio shrugged and nodded again. He hated the idea of leaving his best friends and lovers but the thought of staying with them until he grew to resent them (more than he did now) made his heart ache. It was then that he decided he would give them more time to turn things around. Then if they couldn’t make a change… he would be packing a bag and taking a break.

* * *

_Present Day_

* * *

Lovino felt a hot shiver slide through his ribs as he washed his hands in the lab. This was it, he made it! All he had to do now was wait to see if he receives that dreaded termination email! Or worse: a phone call. He could hear it now, that cocky tone of that damn British weirdo with bad hair.

_“Sorry, chap, but you failed your bloody drug test, yes you did! I’ll have Alfred send you your final paycheck when he’s in line getting his McHeartattack! Have fun working like a lowly fast food bitch! Innit!”_

_…okay, maybe I’m exaggerating here. I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to fuck me like this! Without dinner, no less!_

Lovino gave a shaky wave to a passing technician before exiting the building. He was surprised to see Gilbert and Antonio hadn’t left yet, still in the parking lot. They were standing by the car, making small talk. When Lovino approached them they waved and the Italian felt some relief that at least they _were_ waiting for him and he didn’t look like a complete idiot.

He tried to act annoyed that they waited and he tried to appear like he couldn’t give less of a fuck about them offering a ride. It was too goddamn embarrassing to show gratitude like some needy, begging idiot… like his brother.

“How did it go, Lovi?” Antonio had asked, popping open a car door for the Italian.

Lovino grumbled and entered the car, hoping it would hide his reddening cheeks. “How the fuck do you think, you pervert? Jesus Christ.”

Antonio laughed at the excessive swearing and entered the car as well, making small talk as Gilbert started the engine and took off down the road. It bothered Lovino how much he wanted to actually talk and how hard it seemed to fake disinterest.

_Shut up, idiot_ , he told himself. _He’s just a hot piece of ass. Stop being a horny fourteen-year-old and go home and jerk off alone in your bathroom like the human garbage you are._

He was too flustered to think properly when Gilbert asked where he lived, which he actually responded to with his address. He hadn’t realized his mistake until they pulled into the parking lot and ran over an abandoned beer can. He blushed harder, this time from the shame of his ‘home.’

“Thanks, bye!” he said quickly before rushing out of the car and to the old brick building. Lovino didn’t turn around to see them. He just wanted to get as much space between himself and the happy couple as he could.

* * *

There was a dreamy look on Antonio’s face all day after he and Gilbert returned from dropping off Lovino. Seeing how happy he was, when he had been pretty hot-and-cold lately, made Francis smile. He always liked it when his sweet little churro was happy. It was actually the thing about him that made Francis attracted to him at first—the way he was always so excited for everything.

Gilbert, on the other hand, felt a pinprick in his stomach. He wasn’t an idiot, like the public seemed to believe. He knew what was happening. He saw how bright Antonio’s eyes got when he saw Lovino exit the lab. He saw the way they dimmed when Lovino rushed into his apartment without even a glance back.

Gilbert desperately didn’t want their trio to be down to two. The albino had this feeling that Antonio was the only thing about them that worked. If it woudn’t have been for him, he wouldn’t have dated Francis to begin with. If it wasn’t for the way Antonio diffused fights and spats, he was sure he would be broken up with Francis by now. Besides that, he loved Antonio. Sweet, ever-loving Antonio and his constant forgiveness and just the right amount of dependence to make a man feel important.

It hurt the most that he seemed to be the only person who could see what was happening. And, no doubt, it would all come to light and he would have grown bitter and cold by then. He was always so cold without the warmth of Antonio.

* * *

Monday came and Lovino never received the email or call he had been so anxious about. The work day continued on as usual and he made sure to give as many dirty looks to Alfred as he could.

There was a small relief that Gilbert wasn’t scheduled for that day. He had a hard time even thinking about the past weekend without his neck burning and was sure he wouldn’t be able to face any of the idiot dream team for at least a few years after that.

He never did have good luck since Francis strolled into the store and specifically requested Lovino to come help him. Arthur hated Francis with a passion but gave Lovino direct orders to help him.

_“Vargas, go help that frog—customer. He likes you and you’re a wonderful salesman!”_

_“No, I’m not.”_

_“He likes you anyway! Push the expensive items on him! I don’t care if he doesn’t have a TV, you make sure he leaves here today with a Hetashiba sound bar! Those are the ‘high quality’ ones!”_

Mondays were usually slow due to the majority of customers being at work or school during the day. This meant they had, at most, one or two workers in each department. The shoe department was already a very low-maintenance area… and Lovino was _pissed_ that now he had to help this bastard Frenchman in whatever department he felt like going in, then cashiering for him on top of it!

“The fuck are you even doing here?” Lovino asked, voice gravely and low. “Don’t you have a job?”

Francis snickered and led the irritated worker into another department, looking at different sheets and pillows. “I’m a waiter, my schedule is pretty flexible.”

Lovino rolled his eyes.

 “Toni works at an office. He’s a salesman. He’s pretty good at it.”

Lovino’s cheeks warmed.

“And you obviously know where Gil works.”

The Italian tried to tune out the rambling of the blonde, finding it hard whenever he heard ‘Antonio.’ It was even harder to ignore the pain in his stomach.

_I swear to god, this better not be what I think it is._

“Lovino, are these sheets easily stained?” Francis held up a plastic-encased set of blue sheets. “We tend to make love a lot and let me tell you, I’m tired of being the only person doing the linens in the wash! They don’t seem to understand how gross it is to clean dried—”

“I swear to god, if you don’t shut up right now…”

Francis chuckled. “I’ll get them anyway.”

They walked on, stopping in every department with Lovino stuck carrying the random items without the help of a cart or basket. Francis was explaining his desire to redecorate now that they had a new bed and he was _positive_ he could sell the boys on the nicer apartment by his work. Lovino tried to numb himself and ignore it all but he couldn’t stop the sick feeling in his gut. Just the idea of Antonio moving or how happy he was with these two other men…

_Goddamn it. I have a crush._

* * *

Lovino checked out Francis and took a deep breath when the blonde man went through the automatic doors and got further away. He bent down, arms folded on the counter next to the register. He laid his head in his arms and tried to compose himself. Things were a lot easier before those bastards intruded on his happy, poor, miserable life.

* * *

Noon was always the time Antonio took his lunch break. He waited in anticipation at eleven-fifty-nine like he was a kid on the night of Christmas Eve. He couldn’t help it, he was just an excitable person. It made life fun. He even got a thrill around Halloween that most of his adult friends lost at age fourteen.

The problem was Antonio wasn’t hungry when he reached the breakroom. Well, he was technically hungry, but he couldn’t eat. Now that he wasn’t working he found that his thoughts were wandering until they once again found that rip in his life. No more distractions to ease the pain.

What was he going to do about Francis and Gilbert? He had spoken with them and tried to communicate his feelings and that he was tired of the random bickering and the shopping and the ignoring of certain issues. He tried, really. Once again he was treated like a fragile, cracked cherub figurine. All they saw was the sweet and innocent persona of Antonio. They struggled to get past the sweet face and upbeat attitude. They denied that they were gentle with him, they denied that they were writing off his complaints as just him being _poor, confused baby Antonio_.

_“But, Francis, you’ve been wanting to move us to a nicer place but you’re spending money and it doesn’t make sense,” he tried to say in an even voice._

_There was that damnable glance Francis exchanged with Gilbert, laced with pity. “Toni, dear, I’m just making our house a home.”_

_“Gilbert,” he tried. “Please, I’ve asked you before, please stop playing music so loud at night. I know you like to blog to a soundtrack but I have work in the morning.”_

_Then that godforsaken look. The ugly sympathy. “I know music scares you, Toni, I won’t listen to it anymore if it bothers you.”_

_“It doesn’t scare me! Just turn it down a little, I—”_

_Francis placed a hand on his knee and rubbed small circles. “We’re sorry Toni, maybe we can talk about this this weekend? You must be tired from work.”_

They needed to stop this. Antonio felt a burning in his eyes. He shouldn’t be so surprised they do this, how they minimalize his complaints and treat him like a scared puppy just to turn around and keep up their old habits. They kissed the boo-boo then never placed a bandage. They thought an apology was enough but what Antonio wanted was _results_ , not _promises_.

And it confused him how he could love them and the way they could coddle him at times, then feel so resentful when the coddling continues on every day. He was a fragile person in the beginning, he’ll admit that, but he’s past that! He doesn’t need everyone to tip-toe around him as if he could break at any moment! He can handle hearing glass break and books fall and hearing his lovers fight! Why couldn’t they understand that? And why can’t they just be peaceful all the time if they think he’s some PTSD-stricken survivor of abuse? They think he can’t handle being alone yet they won’t change?

His head hurt and his heart stalled. He knew what he needed to do. If he didn’t make a change, nothing would ever be resolved. This may just be what they need to get their act together and see that Antonio is capable of much more than they give him credit for.


	10. Broken Candle

Antonio waited as long as he could before he confronted the boys. It had been weeks since he decided to make a move and to change things. It had been two weeks of speaking to Emma, of making plans if he needed to move, of figuring out ways to speak to them properly, of _I’m not in the mood, I have a headache._

Between sick stomachs and skipping lunch to sit alone at his desk, Antonio found his mind landing on Lovino. Whenever he saw those green eyes and angry scowl in his head, he felt light. And it felt okay again. There was something appealing about a new romance, something pure and exciting, something fresh without the knowledge of past injustices weighing them down.

He tapped his cold fingers against his keyboard, counting down the hours until he would be home again and admitting his hidden feelings. Antonio took a deep breath and sat for a few minutes, still, with his head in his hands.

Gilbert came home from work past nine. He entered the apartment to see Antonio and Francis on the couch, awkward and silent. He was bothered to see them look so upset and serious. Normally when one came home he saw the other two talking or kissing or having sex with the door open. Or, in Antonio’s case, he’d have a good chance of coming home to Gilbert and Francis arguing or blogging or going through catalogues which always resulted into short spats over money.

But this was different and Gilbert immediately felt his stomach turn over. “What’s going on?”

Francis brushed his hair behind his ear, answering for Antonio. “Toni wants to talk to us about something important.”

Gilbert frowned but took a seat nonetheless. He didn’t bother taking his shoes off or compulsively checking the door that it was locked despite how badly it gnawed at his brain.

Antonio avoided eye-contact with the men and hesitated before speaking. He found his voice, humming for a second before he used it. “I’m not happy.”

Suddenly it felt like the end of the world, with the sea crashing into the city and meteors coming down to destroy them like the dinosaurs. Fire burnt at them, ice cold and shocking. _Antonio wasn’t happy._

“I don’t feel like I’m treated like an adult,” he said in a weak voice, recalling everything he and Emma had worked out he should say. “I… I feel like you both see me as this fragile child, but the thing is _I’m not_. I know I was pretty bad in the beginning, but that’s in the past. I’m over it.”

Gilbert swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell us before then?”

Something odd snapped within the Spaniard. He was torn between anger and this drilling pain and guilt. He raised his head and looked straight into Gilbert’s eyes. “I’ve asked you two for _years_ to stop being so… so… smothering! I love affection but I don’t like it when I’m late home and you two practically report me as missing!”

“We were worried,” Francis bit back.

“Twenty minutes late.” Antonio said, voice growing louder and firm. “I’m twenty-six, not _twelve_.” He ran his fingers through his hair and paused to calm down from the small piles of outrage in his chest.

Unlike Antonio, Gilbert didn’t calm himself down when he felt himself get mad. “I’m _so sorry_ , Toni, that we’re trying to be good boyfriends! You used to wake up with nightmares and you liked it when we held you. You were late a few times when you broke down with panic attacks on the way home! So _fucking sorry_ we love you.”

Antonio’s head snapped up and Francis shook his head at Gilbert to try to shut him up.

“Are you kidding me? I haven’t had those problems in years and I told you I was okay hundreds of times! And, excuse me, but are you really saying you smother me because of that? Are you sure it’s not because you’re so _bitter_ about being unemployed for _years_ and _mooching_ that you thought taking care of me evened it out?”

Francis was getting scared now. It was rare to see Antonio get this mad, and now he’s mad at Gilbert—the man who gets into bar fights over sports teams.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Gilbert hissed back. “You’d just be some crying bitch in someone else’s house if it weren’t for me! I made you feel better when you needed me! I didn’t have a job but it made me available whenever you had nightmares or needed to see me during work! I was always there for you!”

“Like how you were always there to scream back and forth with Francis, just like my parents?” Antonio said, tone low. The men gasped lightly. It wasn’t like the Spaniard to openly talk about his family. “You thought you were helping me, always being so nice and giving me hugs and kisses when I got scared— _but why do you think I got scared_? It was like being home, except I wasn’t the target this time!”

There was a silence, the only sound being Antonio’s own heavy breathing and Francis’s anxious foot-tapping. It was here, the truth was out in the open. And now they knew what Antonio’s problem was: it was them. They… they were the ones who perpetuated his traumas. They kissed him then scared him and it never occurred to them that he was too sweet to ever tell them they hurt him.

“I’m an adult,” Antonio reiterated. “And you two only seem to remember that when you want sex. And before I forget— _go fuck yourself_.” He stormed to the front door and opened it, ready to leave dramatically. He stopped with his hand on the knob, calling back, “And… I’m breaking up.”

* * *

Lovino didn’t expect to open his door to an absolutely miserable Antonio. It was late at night and Antonio looked like he had been crying.

“Antonio?”

The man sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“Come in,” Lovino held the door open and let the man enter his shabby apartment. All previous worries of his ugly home were gone and replaced by the small crack forming in his heart now that Antonio, miserable as ever, was there.

They sat on the couch, paying no mind to the dust or the weird smell Lovino could never place. Antonio’s head hung low and his shoulders were hunched. Lovino didn’t know what happened or how to respond, opting to do what he did whenever his brother was upset.

He placed a hesitant hand on the taller man’s back and sat closer but didn’t speak just yet. Antonio leaned into the small touch and Lovino continued what he knew helped Feliciano.

The fragile voice of Antonio barely broke the air with a mumbled and shaky, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Lovino said back. “Just calm down, _caro_.”

_Just my luck. There’s a hot guy ready to fucking cry in my shitty apartment. I’m about to be the goddamn king of the friendzone. Whatever. Polygamists always have to intrude on my life and make shit weird._

Antonio lifted his head just slightly. “I left them.”

Lovino startled. “What?”

The Spaniard took a breath before reiterating, “We had a fight and I yelled at Fr-Francis and Gil. And I broke up with them… And I left.”

“Oh.”

Antonio’s head lulled.

“Why did you fight?” _Fuck, is that rude to ask? I barely know this jabroni. Goddamn it, Lovino._

Despite being closer to acquaintances than friends, Antonio answered. “It had been building up for a while. They treated me like a child and I was tired of it.”

Lovino nodded, unsure of what to do. “Why did they treat you like a child?”

“That’s a story for another day, Lovi.”

It was almost midnight when they decided to go to bed. Lovino felt bad forcing this kicked-puppy of a guest to sleep on his bug-inhabited couch and offered up his own bed instead. To his surprise, Antonio requested he join him.

“I’m not used to sleeping alone,” he said. “I haven’t slept alone in eight years.”

That wasn’t necessarily something Lovino wanted to hear, that his crush hadn’t spent a single night alone since Lovino was a sophomore in high school. It bugged him to know when he was fifteen—awkward and trying to adjust to his voice that wouldn’t stop dropping and his growing satisfaction at the sight of the other boys in the halls— _Antonio was this youthful god in bed with other attractive men_.

There was no way Antonio ever had an ugly phase or a chubby phase. He had to be perfect from the start.

_You stop that right fucking now, brain._

So Antonio stood at the side of Lovino’s bed and stripped off his shirt and pants, shoes kicked off, like nothing was odd about undressing in front of people you barely knew. The poor Italian had to turn his reddened face away. He didn’t even have a chance to offer up some clothes to sleep in. Antonio was already in bed and adjusting the covers around his legs.

“Lovi? Are you going to undress?”

Lovino squeaked and turned around. “Not in front of you, you fucking pervert!” The comment earned a small chuckle and it made Lovino feel better to hear Antonio still had the ability to laugh.

* * *

Sleeping was a problem. Antonio was struggling, kept awake by the guilt and remorse of the sudden breakup and outburst. Lovino, on the other hand, was trying to think cold thoughts and wait this one out. He struggled to sleep but now it would be downright impossible with this hunk next to him and his goddamn jeans and polo shirt still on.

_Snow cones, the German weirdo, Nonno hitting on everyone, potatoes…_

* * *

The bed felt freezing and empty without Antonio sharing it. Gilbert and Francis laid together, speaking softly, wondering what the hell happened. There was a guilt in the air now that they knew how detrimental they had actually been. It was tense and hard to ignore. Francis mourned the loss of his relationship with Antonio and Gilbert couldn’t get it out of his head that he was next; that Francis wouldn’t want to be with him now that Antonio was out of the equation.

_Face it_ , Gilbert told himself _. Antonio was the light that made me glow. Now there’s only shadows… and Francis won’t want to deal with me anymore. He’s going to realize we’re no good when we’re not all together. We’re a broken candle; Francis the beautiful scented wax, me the wick, and Antonio the flame that brought the best out of us. And now what are we? Antonio will brighten someone else’s life, Francis is still the sweet smell of everything good… and I’m the wick. And I’m nothing without them._

* * *

Antonio woke up around three in the morning, visibly frightened. Lovino had been awake all night, playing around on his phone or stitching random ripped articles of clothing in the dark. He wasn’t expecting to see his visitor awaken so suddenly and so shaken.

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Antonio said, voice taken over by his drowsiness.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Lovino sighed and got up, leaving Antonio alone while he searched for his extra blankets. In a cramped closet in the living area was a stack of pillows, sheets, and the quilt his brother had given him years before as a house-warming gift. The gift was quickly shoved into the arms of the sleepy Spaniard.

“Go the fuck to bed. The magical quilt from Narnia will protect you. _Fusososo_ ,” Lovino said, voice dry and sarcastic. He couldn’t help it—he hadn’t slept in days and Antonio didn’t seem the type to be offended by his sass.

And Antonio laughed. He gave out a gentle smile and spread out the quilt over the entire bed, as if to share with the Italian. He said, “Thank you,” and laid back down. He didn’t wake up again until it was a reasonable time and Lovino was able to get his act together.


	11. Sleep

Antonio was the sweetest houseguest and Lovino couldn’t stand it. This jerk bastard had the audacity to make the bed, be quiet in the rare moment Lovino slept, and cook and clean! The nerve!

He was doing his best to distract himself, to not think about the past couple of days of not being home and being newly single. He still made it to work, though he had to wear loaned clothes from Lovino that was just tight enough to show off his muscles. Gilbert and Francis made no attempt to come retrieve him, though they probably didn’t even know he was there. Lovino thanked his lucky stars to have a different schedule from Gilbert and have no visits at work from Francis.

“Welcome home, Lovi!” Antonio would chirp as soon as Lovino returned home after closing up for his department. Dinner would always be made and ready, the house cleaner than the last time he was there.

_Fuck yeah, this hot guy is sleeping in my bed AND cleaning!_

* * *

_Fuck no, there’s a sad hot guy sleeping in my bed. This is so deep into the friendzone it hurts._

They’d eat together, small talk popping up every few minutes. Antonio’s mind always wandered back to the same lingering presence of regret. Those eyes would be unfocused and his face would fall. He put the mask back up whenever he caught himself, which wasn’t as often as he thought.

After a week and a half Lovino had enough of this. He wanted to get closer to Antonio but he knew better—this would never lead to anything, it never did. This was a scene from Antonio’s life movie where he crashes with a new friend then learns something about himself and goes back to his previous happy life with the two men he loved.

And this was the scene in Lovino’s own movie where he takes in a love interest and watches from the sidelines as it leaves his life like every other plot device. It was all to remind him why he lives alone in this shitty apartment. This is all it ever would be and this was what it was meant to be. There was the happy movie about love and down the hall was the unpopulated indie film about the sad Italian in sepia tone.

_That’s a little dramatic._

On into the eighth night they prepared for bed, Lovino changing in the bathroom and Antonio waiting in his boxers in bed. The Italian joined him, wrapping himself in his own private blanket. He needed to bring _it_ up and start talking before he could back out again.

“You need to go back.”

Antonio turned, slight confusion in his eyes. “What? Go ba… _oh_. You want me to go home.”

“That’s it! See? You just called it _home_. You know you belong there, Antonio.”

There was something akin to hurt in those cloudy green eyes. “Lovi, I can’t. I know better than to run back to something that hurts.”

A shiver slid through Lovino’s body like a parasite.

“I’ll find my own place soon, but I’m not going back,” he continued. “I don’t want to burden you much more. I could see if Emma lets me stay with her and her brother if this bothers you so much.”

_If this bothers me?_ “It’s not about where you live, it’s about what you’re doing. I don’t want you to regret this. This is two breakups in one and you shouldn’t—” _Don’t say it._

_Don’t say he shouldn’t have to deal with that._

_He’ll figure **it** out. And then he’ll rebound on you. Then he’ll leave._

“…shouldn’t be rash about it,” he finished, a new burn in his chest.

Antonio rubbed his neck and averted his gaze. “Don’t worry, Lovi. I know what I’m doing. I’ve wanted to change things for a while.”

They went to bed uneasy.

* * *

There was a loud banging on the bedroom door and Lovino didn’t know if he was happy it was locked—to keep out that idiot—or mad the idiot couldn’t just open it himself and stop.

“Fratello! Fratello, wake up! We’ll be late!”

Lovino groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up!” Beside him his guest stirred, slowing rising from his own slumber.

“Come on, get ready! We need to meet Nonno at the restaurant by noon!”

_What? What the fuck is he talking ab—OH SHIT._

In the madness of the past week, Lovino had completely forgotten that he was supposed to have lunch with his brother and his grandfather. And now here he was, startled awake with a man his family had never met… in his bed. In nothing but underwear.

_Goddamn it._

Antonio got up, stretching as he did so. Lovino barely was able to look away from those beautiful tanned muscles. Outside the door was the sound of the younger Italian tapping his foot, very impatient and excitable.

“What’s going on?” The Spaniard asked groggily. Lovino grabbed his mouth and tried to shush him.

“Fratello? Is someone in there?”

“No!” He yelled back frantically.

“Oh, big brother had a one night stand! I knew you could do it! Who was it? The pretty girl from the coffee shop? Oh, is it the student teacher at the high school?”

Lovino’s face was beet-red and he absentmindedly dug his nails into Antonio’s soft cheeks as the former tried not to start laughing at the situation.

“I bet it was that cute guy! The one you said you tried to flirt with but he was already dating two other guys!”

The skin under the Italian’s fingers grew warm and he felt Antonio’s lips slacken. He chanced a glance over and saw the man’s face now reddening as well, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

“I told you to go for it! I’m so happy you listened to me!”

Then the smile returned. Lovino took his hands away, sure the idiot wouldn’t laugh too loud to give him away. He was dead wrong.

“Ah, Lovi! You were flirting? That’s so cute!”

_God FUCKING DAMN IT, ANTONIO._

There was an excited squeal on the other side of the door. “I was right! Is that him? IS THAT YOU, SISTER-WIVES GUY? _POLYGON_?”

“SI, IT’S ME!” Antonio called back.

Lovino sulked to the wall and smacked his head into it. This was going to be a _very_ long day.

* * *

Feliciano had insisted on Antonio joining their lunch plans with their grandfather, stating how happy the old man would be to see Lovino made a ‘friend.’ Of course, Antonio was more than willing to go and meet new people and have a light-hearted day out.

When they reached the restaurant Feliciano stole the seat with their grandpa, giving a sly wink to Lovino as he sat down. The four were seated, waiting for a waitress, making small talk—which Lovino usually avoided but opted to speak this time in order to steer conversation away from certain tanned and muscular topics.

It didn’t go as planned.

“I might get transferred at work,” Lovino tried to say, hoping talk of work would successfully prevent any relationship questions.

Their grandfather smiled, partially elated his bitter grandson was finally speaking up and contributing to talk. “Aren’t you a salesman, Lovino?”

“Not rea—”

Antonio turned fast, eyes bright and set on his current host. “I’m a salesman, too, Lovi!”

Both Feliciano and Nonno smirked before Feliciano asked, “Really? Where do you work? Is it close to fratello’s apartment? _I hope so since you’re staying with him!_ ”

_I will disembowel you and feed your intestines to your disgusting wurst-eating fuckboy._

The old man grinned. “Oh, Lovi! I didn’t know you had a roommate! Is this your _boyfriend_? So handsome, too! What’s your name, young man? You two are just the cutest couple!”

The ‘couple’ had radically different reactions, both replying in unison, “We’re not together!” and “Thank you! I think so, too!”

Lovino’s face fell and burnt straight to the nerves. _What the fuck?!_

The waitress came by to take their orders. Lovino was unable to speak, reduced to a cringing, heated puddle. Feliciano was more than happy to order for him and hit on the young woman taking their orders while he was at it. As soon as the woman was gone Lovino jumped up and scurried to the bathroom, avoiding as many scooted-out chairs and stretched legs as he could before isolating himself in a stall.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

He held his sweaty palms to his face and leaned against the latched stall door. This was the most embarrassing day of his life and his crush and family were all present for it, not that he expected any less. This was what he was trying to avoid. He couldn’t handle the absolute and utter humiliation any form of relationship brought him. His brother drove him crazy and annoyed him. His grandpa only teased him and made him feel inadequate for never being with friends or lovers, unlike his brother who had an abundance of both through his life.

Then there was Antonio. _Stupid goddamn Antonio_. The man who caught his eye, brought his hopes up, then smashed them down by being with two other men. That was two more men between them and who were _better than him_. This _stupid man_ who made him daydream when they were together and made him nervous when they spoke. Furthermore, who gave this jerk bastard the right to come back into his life and confuse the ever living fuck out of him?

It was too much, too much, _too much_ and soon Lovino found himself sliding down to sit on the questionable bathroom floor with a tightening weight in his chest and the feeling he was about to drop dead.

_You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay_ , he told himself, not believing a single word. _One, two, three… I can’t breathe._

Lovino’s legs curled to his chest and he tried to fight the feeling of suffocating. He cursed himself for leaving his phone at the table next to his silverware. When he was younger and desperate he used to text his brother to _come over right **now**_ when he was having a panic attack. That wasn’t even an option this time and it added another pound to the weight on his lungs.

Times like now he regretted never seeking professional help and being too ashamed to search the internet for ways to cope.

The bathroom door clicked open and he clamped his hands over his mouth to silence and noises he might make. It was bad enough some man was going to see the weirdo sitting in a stall on the floor.

The footsteps echoed and slowed when it got to his stall, no doubt to internally ridicule the scene or snap a picture to mock online. God knows he’s seen plenty of images on the internet mocking any odd behavior seen in public.

“Lovi?”

_That fucking creep followed me?_

_Oh **thank God**._

“Are you okay?”

Lovino didn’t answer—he couldn’t. His throat was tight and he felt nothing but panic flood his veins, taking away the ounce of relief the sound of the Spaniard’s voice brought. At least someone cared enough to follow him.

There was a small whine from Antonio, unsure of what to do. His feet scuffled around and the next stall over shook and rattled. Lovino didn’t pay any mind to it, instead focusing on trying to calm down and look normal again. It scared the living hell out of him when he saw that curly head of Antonio’s appear next to his feet and crawl in.

The Spaniard struggled to get in and up between the low stall walls, Lovino’s legs, and the toilet. He was soon squeezed in the small enclosure before the bewildered Italian. He didn’t speak, only smiling and reaching out to hold Lovino. They shuffled around until they were somewhat comfortable and embraced. Lovino blinked away some embarrassed tears and allowed Antonio’s hand to guide his head to the Spaniard’s shoulder.

_One, two, three, breathe. Four, five, six, breathe._

Antonio sat there, patiently, humming lightly. The panic attack faded out and Lovino lifted a hand to his chest, quickly thanking God it passed. He didn’t want to speak or move but knew both were inevitable. The burning returned to his cheeks.

Antonio spoke first, another miracle. “I’ll tell your family you got sick and we’ll go home. Is that okay?”

Lovino’s eyebrows rose and he stared up into Antonio’s soft eyes. “Y-yeah.”

“Stay here and I’ll come back, Lovi. I’ll grab your phone.”

The men stood, Antonio leaving and Lovino just standing alone in the stall in awe of this sweet, incredible friend of his. Lovino was ready to cry from relief when the man returned and wrapped him in a hug, knowing how fragile everything was at the moment.

And they snuck out, avoiding the section they sat in, and they walked back to the apartment in silence. It was awful and embarrassing at the restaurant… but Lovino couldn’t help but feel that lightness in his stomach and an uncharacteristic giddiness reach his eyes when he thought about his knight in shining armor coming to the rescue.

_I definitely have a crush. God fucking damn it._

They reached the apartment and sank into the couch, Lovino tired out from the episode he just had. Antonio reached out and pulled Lovino to his lap, not letting the smaller man fight it off.

“Sorry, Lovi, but this is how I roll,” he laughed, nuzzling the Italian’s dark hair. “I cuddle the pain away!”

“I’ll fucking punch the pain right in if you don’t let me go!”

Antonio laughed. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Lovino huffed and stop struggling. He wasn’t in the mood to be _too_ stubborn. “Are you going to ask?”

“Nope. I’m not the type to pry on things like this.”

“Things like me having a panic attack in a men’s bathroom?” Lovino retorted, voice dry.

“Oh no,” Antonio whined, feigning a distressed face. “I promised our second date wouldn’t be in a bathroom! I guess we’ll have to try for something nicer for the third. Right, Lovi?”

_This… this isn’t good at all. This piece of shit needs to hop off and stop these shenanigans!_ “Y-you just had a break up…”

Antonio hummed. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t allow myself to feel happy or act normally. I deal with love and pain separately.”

A new question presented itself to Lovino. His insecurities came flying to the front of his mind, all sparking up against the butterflies in his gut. It was getting harder to decipher if he was just another rebound. When it came to Antonio it could be anything—this is a man who could love the entire world and not pick favorites. It was becoming apparent he didn’t even have the capacity to act out in such a selfish way as to have a rebound.

No one ever liked Lovino, why did the man made of sugar like him? Why was it getting harder to tell himself he was just the background character in everyone else’s stories? Was this his sad indie film, or was he and Antonio a part of a different movie—the romantic comedy enjoyed by the masses?

“Don’t doubt yourself, Lovi. It doesn’t suit you.”

Lovino hid his face in Antonio’s chest and soft shirt. He closed his eyes and shut out his thoughts and the doubts that constantly nagged at him. It didn’t matter what happened before they met—it doesn’t matter that Lovino was miserable with every aspect of his life and alone. It didn’t matter that Antonio was in a long-term relationship or newly single. Their unknown pasts didn’t matter and their problems weren’t real anymore.

All Lovino could feel was the beating of Antonio’s heart and he knew that he never wanted to let this feeling go. So he listened to it and all the negative voices were mute. He fell asleep, content, for the first time in years.


	12. Moving On

It was unusual to wake up naturally, without a buzzing alarm to jolt him awake and make him grumble as he stumbled out of bed. Normally he didn’t sleep or merely got a few interrupted hours before he had to wake himself up with pacing his bedroom and downing some strong coffee.

_Am I high again?_

The only reason he could ever sleep were from extreme situations, like being so exhausted after a few back-to-back shifts during Black Friday that he collapsed on the mattresses in storage and slept for a few hours before he was yelled at to get off the merchandise.

Lovino blinked a few times, quickly noticing the lack of bricks that usually laid in his eyelids. The urge to yawn was replaced with an urge to stretch, which was refreshing rather than irritating. He was well-rested and confused as hell.

Beside him stirred Antonio, who he hadn’t noticed in his self-absorption. His cheeks heated and he assessed the situation, taking note that he had a full night of sleep and woke up in a bed that felt softer than usual, next to the sweetest man alive.

_Wait. I didn’t go to bed yesterday…_

“Antonio?” he whispered, not wanting to wake the man if he was still out.

The Spaniard hummed and snuggled his face into his pillow, slowly waking up himself.

“What the fuck?”

Antonio yawned and cracked open one eye. He was so soft and genuine and nothing could convince Lovino that this man wasn’t the embodiment of a beautiful cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure.

“Did we sleep?”

“Yes, Lovi,” Antonio’s tired voice responded.

“How?”

“Well, when you lay still with your eyes closed for a long time… REM cycle…”

Lovino narrowed his eyes. “You bastard, are you going back to sleep?”

There was no response and the Italian was ready to go off on this jerk bastard for falling asleep again but he found that he wasn’t overflowing with his usual irritation. He brushed it off and instead laid back down, eyes closed, feeling relaxed and warm against the soft, clean sheets.

They officially were awake and moving by noon. Neither spoke a word of the day before or of Lovino’s realizations or Antonio’s possible regret. They acted as if it was just another day of Antonio the Guest and Lovino the Bitter.

The butterflies awoke when Lovino sat idly by and watched Antonio prepare lunch. That man was so gifted and never complained of the empty kitchen, instead working around it with a humble smile. He was so perfect—

_Didn’t we already fucking go over this?_

_But I did decide I wanted him…_

_AS IF THAT EVER FUCKING WORKS OUT FOR ME. I’m a rebound, I’m a rebound, I’m a rebound…_

Antonio turned around and smiled, his face genuine and enticing. “Hey, Lovi? Let’s go grocery shopping so I can prepare you a proper meal! It’ll be fun!”

_Shit, I’m in love. He’s too precious. Goddamn it._

* * *

They walked to the closest store to pick up some food. Normally Lovino would buy the bare minimum, the majority being foods that didn’t go bad for a while—making fruits and vegetables a rarity. Feliciano liked to stop by and bring food or ingredients to cook, leaving him able to scrape by on stale bread and packaged snacks. He was desperately strapped for cash and chose to pay back college debts before he dared buy a luxury… like food.

On the other hand there was Antonio, who had nothing—no home and no debt—and he was so free. Before they even entered the automatic doors he had commented he would pay for everything since Lovino was so kind to let him stay for free. Lovino put up a fake fight and quickly gave in when his guest mentioned wanting to load up on tomatoes.

_This man knows the way to my heart._

Antonio grabbed and cart and wandered off, telling Lovino he could go on his own and find things for himself and he would still pay. It would be faster this way, they were starving and would no doubt end up with a full cart. Lovino’s stomach growled and he grabbed a basket, heading in the opposite direction with the plan to meet up again at the in-store bakery.

It was embarrassing to let another man pay for his groceries but he couldn’t bring himself to care—he was floating right now, fighting a blush whenever he remembered the night before. This man liked him, he was sure, and he left his hot boyfriends and came straight to him! That had to be good, right? And he didn’t pry into Lovino’s personal issues and he didn’t make a big deal out of his crack-den of an apartment, and he said he’d buy their food! _Food!_

Lovino still searched for the cheapest store-brand items and picked up fallen coupons just the same, only this time he felt an underlying happiness in his chest. It was a giddy smile within his heart and he hated how mushy he was being, but hey, at least there were no witnesses to it.

The smell of fresh bread entered his head and he found he was at the bakery. His rose-tinted gaze made the aisles upon aisles of food fly by and he felt the weight of his little basket.

_The fuck? When did I fill this up? Oh, fuck yeah, Oreos!_

There was a clattering to his left and he saw Antonio absent-mindedly walk his cart into a free sample tray. The Spaniard reddened slightly before he looked up to see Lovino and waved his hand, calling out, “Lovi! Over here!”

He hurried over to prevent the Spaniard from making an even bigger scene and saw the full cart. This man sure loved to eat! Or not starve, Lovino wasn’t sure what was the appropriate amount to buy anymore.

They stopped to go over if they grabbed and duplicate items and Lovino felt something akin to pride knowing his kitchen would be full. An actual _human_ kitchen! He laughed when he saw some children’s snacks in the cart and stopped when Antonio suddenly went quiet and pulled him into another aisle while dragging the cart. He was quick, as if trying to escape a rattlesnake on a hiking path. They were hiding in the nearby cereal aisle, Antonio sticking his head out to spy on something.

“The fuck?” Lovino growled, looking down to check he hadn’t dropped anything. His arm was sore from where he was roughly grabbed and moved.

The Spaniard shushed him and looked back. “I’m sorry, Lovi, I just saw someone I know.”

_Oh fuck, shit, it’s one of them! God fucking damn it, every goddamn day some of this nonsense has to fucking happen!_

“Which one is it?”

Antonio raised an eyebrow. “What? _Oh_! It’s not an ex, don’t worry.”

Lovino stuck his head out and looked, not expecting to see his little brother and that stupid potato fucker. “My brother?”

“No… _his_ brother.”

Lovino narrowed his eyes.

“That man,” Antonio pointed to Ludwig, “is Gilbert’s younger brother.”

_ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME._

“If he sees me he might tell Gil, or if he doesn’t know he’ll want to know why I’m here because Francis always does the shopping!”

Lovino grabbed Antonio and dragged him back into the safety of the cereal aisle. “Are you trying to tell me that Ludwig is Gilbert’s brother?”

“How do you know his name?”

Lovino rubbed his temples with his free hand. “Because he’s dating _my_ brother.”

Suddenly their carefree possible romance had a tear in its perfect façade and a new weight came down to scare away the butterflies. Just when Lovino thought maybe it could work, it was obvious it couldn’t. Not when Gilbert was still in their lives.

They waited until Feliciano and Ludwig had left before they wheeled down to the checkout lanes. Antonio seemed to struggle carrying the grocery bags and Lovino tried to ignore everything but the burning pain of the thin plastic straps digging into his arm through his jacket sleeves. Their arms were covered in red bands by the time they made it to his apartment and they were too tired to unload them.

Antonio put the refrigerated foods away and slumped on the couch where Lovino was already beginning to wallow. It hit him that Feliciano had met Antonio the day before and it wouldn’t be long before he put the dots together. He was getting serious with Ludwig and would surely meet his family soon. Ludwig used to say he didn’t want to make a bad impression with family and now Lovino knew he didn’t mean Feliciano would make the bad impression… _Gilbert would_. He was purposely hiding Gilbert.

Guilt tugged at Lovino. Gilbert was the family embarrassment, a hard worker, and helped him cheat his drug test when all he’d done is insult him and now he was stealing the man’s boyfriend!

_How am I such a horrible person?_

* * *

Antonio threw together some fruit for the two to enjoy with a side of tomatoes. Lovino had difficulty eating and excused himself to shower, needing to be alone for a while. Antonio knew he was bothered by something and tried to tell himself it was something unrelated to himself and the timing was just a coincidence.

But Antonio wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t as naïve as his exes would like to think. His new interest wasn’t talking, wasn’t huffing and sighing, wasn’t making any snide comments to hide the fact he had been caught staring. He was avoiding Antonio’s gaze and looking down. His eyes were unfocused. He was upset.

It was obviously because of Ludwig—more specifically, Ludwig’s family. Antonio had been trying to block out thoughts of Gilbert and Francis just as much as Lovino, though for differing reasons. From what he learned the day before, Lovino wasn’t as mentally put-together as he first thought. Lovino can’t sleep, Lovino’s miserable at a job he’s overqualified for, and Lovino had a panic attack because his family teased him.

If Antonio didn’t do something about this he knew Lovino would stay this way until he was gone again.

* * *

The next day at work Lovino had requested to change departments. He told Mr. Kirkland he was interested in being a salesman and making commission so he could pay back his student loans, which wasn’t questioned. He was an excellent salesman the one day he did it.

The only times he had to face Gilbert were in passing on his way to break or have lunch, so he stopped. He gave up all of his breaks and he sat outside on the curb during lunch hours. He couldn’t face the albino, he didn’t want to be flooded with more guilt. He didn’t want to be asked, _“Hey, have you heard from Antonio?”_ just to say _“Yeah, he sleeps in my bed now.”_

He knew he was feeling worse now. He never really felt that great but he had to admit, he felt the best when he was maybe twenty-one and his apartment was still decent. He was a pro at picking up women or men and bringing them back to the apartment for the night. He had wine ready and candles with the lights dim (excellent ways to hide how plain it was) and who _didn’t_ fall for a young, sexy Italian speaking his native language?

They never knew his native language was, in fact, English, or that what he said was random gibberish when he was ‘smooth-talking’ them. It always worked, however, and he used to find loose articles of clothing under his bed the week after.

And the entire time he was just the part-time World Powers employee waiting until he graduated college to move on to his dream job and make enough money to live life like his friends could. But it never happened and life went on the same with loans adding up and no car to escape.

And here he was, sitting outside in the light rain at eleven-thirty, all because he tried to feel like he used to and hit on the hot guy with a boner at the bus stop.

* * *

It felt like a bold move when it was just the normal next step. Antonio stood outside the old apartment door, fist hovering over the wood. He tentatively knocked and braced himself for whatever would be thrown at him.

The door creaked on the other side and he recognized the clicking of the chain lock being undone. It opened and he was faced with Francis, hair messy, as if he was woken from a nap.

“Toni,” he said, voice low and whispery.

“Francis,” Antonio replied, steeling himself up, not wanting a breakdown. “I came for my things.” He had practiced that line a thousand times in his head.

Francis blinked and looked away, the hope of a reconciliation fading from his face. “Come in.”

They both packed up Antonio’s things. There weren’t a lot of boxes around and Francis offered up old grocery bags instead. It hurt to see all the picture frames turned down or removed that used to contain Antonio. He didn’t miss the empty tissue boxes piled by the kitchen trash either.

Francis pulled out an old backpack, “I think this is yours.” He opened the dresser drawers and folded up Antonio’s clothes tightly before putting them inside the bag. The blonde stayed silent and somber. He wasn’t going to fight this and Antonio appreciated that, as much as it broke his heart.

They could only pack a fraction of Antonio’s things but he could deal with that. He found his dead phone and charger and left his key on the coffee table before he struggled out the door with his backpack, arm of bags, and mismatched boxes of clothes.

* * *

Lovino did a double-take when he returned home after his late shift, in which he covered for a no-show teenager. It was more commission to earn so he didn’t care. It was also no chance of seeing Gilbert.

“Am I in the right apartment?” he called out. Antonio giggled from another room and came to the door to greet Lovino.

“Sorry, Lovi. I went to get some of my things and the rain ruined a few of my boxes and I had to unpack.”

Across the couch was a soft blue blanket and a small sock-doll on one of the ratty old pillows. On the coffee table he had set his prayer candle with Jesus Christ printed on the tall glass. There were a few plastic bags on the floor with the handles tied into knots. In the bedroom Lovino would find the pile of folded clothes left on the floor since it would have been rude to claim a drawer.

Antonio saw the redness in Lovino’s eyes and the way they turned to glass. “Oh, Lovi, I’m sorry,” he cooed and wrapped his arms around Lovino. “I’m not trying to move in, I just needed to put my things somewhere. Lovi?”

_He’s not messing around. He’s moving, he’s leaving them._

“Y-you can move in,” Lovino hiccuped into Antonio’s chest. “Move in…”

Antonio patted his hair and nuzzled his head. It didn’t seem like the best time for words.


	13. Sugar Daddy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news, kids. An actual sex scene is in this chapter! The smut, however, is not beta read. Be ready for mistakes.

“I swear to God if you say this is a fucking date…”

Antonio faked a hurt face. “Aw, Lovi, you didn’t like it? I worked so hard to plan this!”

“Fuck you.”

The two had been waiting at the doctor’s office for their appointments. They finally broke down and had The Talk, which ended with Lovino demanding STD tests because he ‘ _didn’t trust those damn Sister Wives weirdos_.’ In reality, he hadn’t been tested in almost two years and didn’t want his promiscuity to come back to bite Antonio.

_Antonio’s perfect, of course he’s clean. Stupid fucker probably could only get those other two idiots anyway._

Their names were called one by one and they went their separate ways. Lovino felt nervous the entire day.

* * *

Antonio went out later that day to see Emma again. When he finally got his phone charged he saw the massive amounts of missed texts and calls. He ignore the ones from family or Gilbert and Francis, but he couldn’t possibly leave Emma hanging.

They met at a park since it was sunny out. She was wearing a pretty floral dress and waiting on a bench by a tree. She seemed surprised to see the man in high spirits. She would have expected a walking mess with tear tracks on his cheeks—not this smiling, shaven, well-dressed Spaniard.

“Hola, Emma,” he greeted as he sat down. “How are you?”

“Toni, why are you so happy?”

His lip twitched at the bluntness. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“ _Toni_.”

He grimaced and looked away like a dog caught chewing on a slipper. “I’ve moved on, Emma, and it feels _amazing_! I’m staying with a friend—”

“ _Who isn’t me_.”

“—and I think we’re going to be something even greater than me and… _and them_!”

Emma gave him a skeptical glance and looked him up and down as if to find the lie. “When you said you were falling out of love with Gilbert and Francis, was it because you saw this new person and fell for them instead?”

“Emma, that hurts,” Antonio frowned. “And no, we both know I’m very capable of loving more than one man. I actually didn’t meet him until after I knew I wasn’t happy with _them_.”

“Okay, okay,” Emma relented. “So tell me, what’s been going on? This is a pretty big change and you don’t seem to care.”

Antonio shrugged and laughed. “I just feel so liberated now! L— _he_ doesn’t treat me like a little kid! He doesn’t try to make me talk about the past, he doesn’t fight! Well, it’s play fighting at least. He pretends to be mad but I know he’s just hiding how embarrassed he is and it’s _so cute_! He let me move in and he lets me do the shopping! I get to pick out the food and everything, Emma! And he even said I could replace his old TV if I wanted!”

Emma sighed. “You’re a sugar daddy, Antonio.”

“No, _I’m finally allowed to pick things out for myself_. He gets embarrassed when I buy things, too. I had to bargain just to get him to say yes to the TV. I miss my shows, Emma! How will I know who wins the Game of Thrones?”

Emma smiled and shook her head. “As long as you’re happy, Toni. And don’t ignore my calls again! I was worried you were face-down in a river!”

* * *

_Oh thank fucking God_ , Lovino internally sighed in relief. He got the call back from the doctor and he was clean as ever!  _Now Antonio and I can—_

His face turned redder than the tomatoes Antonio had bought.

_Oh god. OH GOD NOW WE CAN—OH SHIT—THIS ISN’T LIKE SOME ONE NIGHT STAND—OH CHRIST. No! I’ll just—I’ll tell that bastard I don’t want to even consider that until our third real date! AND THE FUCKING CLINIC DOESN’T COUNT, HE NEEDS TO STOP BEING CREEPY._

Things had been moving faster and faster. Lovino still felt the bricks of guilt piling in his guts whenever he caught a glimpse of those red eyes or white hair at the store, but Antonio kept telling him to stop worrying about it and he wasn’t about to go back to them.

As if that helped.

He reasoned with himself that the warm feeling and ability to sleep was enough to outweigh the store guilt. The hope that it would get better with time was all he had to cling onto, though time had never done him any favors before.

* * *

The weeks without Antonio had passed slowly and not without regret. At first Gilbert and Francis struggled with where they went wrong and how they could win him back. This was met with the following day consisting of why they were better without him and  _he would surely come back_ to their perfect home.

Then the realizations that they were never perfect. Once the honeymoon phase of the three had worn off it was tense. Everything was about evenly dividing their time together, finding furniture and housing to accommodate three people, and pretending that they weren’t bothered by the looks and eye-rolls when they were out together as a trio—or the looks two would get when strangers thought they caught one cheating on the missing third man.

Gilbert struggled daily with the fear that Francis would leave next and he’d be alone in their apartment with the memories he didn’t want. It was a miracle he even found a man who wasn’t irritated by him, let alone two. He thought they were in love. He thought so many things.

It didn’t help anyone that Francis only had two modes now: full-on sobbing and breaking down, and completely shutting off and being silent and distant.

Gilbert had taken as much time as he could to spend at work, offering to take as many shifts as possible. He didn’t want to go home to the fresh boxes marked **Antonio** or the empty wine bottles Francis didn’t bother to hide.

“I get why Toni hated coming home,” he said to himself as he walked home one afternoon. The fog was clearing and he was finally understanding Antonio in a way he never thought of before—on emotional levels deeper than love and more complex than his childhood scars.

He arrived home to see the car in the lot and the apartment filled with the smell of tobacco. Inside Francis sat at their kitchen table with his hair in a messy ribbon. Gilbert joined him, drank some wine, and gazed at the wall while picking at some leftovers Francis brought from work.

He just felt numb.

* * *

“Oh, Lovi! Look! I passed my test!”

“An STD test isn’t hard to pass, you whore.”

Antonio giggled and winked at Lovino from the couch. “Oh? I’m the whore? I found a pair of red lacey panties stuck in the drawer you gave me. Now, unless you have a fetish for women’s lingerie…”

Lovino’s face was as red as the alleged panties. “W-what? You—I—”

“Your face is so cute!”

The embarrassed man sputtered before he locked eyes with his maybe-possibly-it’s-complicated-as-shit boyfriend. Something mischievous sparked in those bright green eyes of Antonio’s.

_I fucking swear to god._

Antonio smirked.

_Don’t you fucking do it!_

Antonio jumped up and ran for the bedroom door. Lovino shrieked and scurried forward, unable to beat his roommate before the Spaniard was in the room… red lacey panties on top of his head.

“Tell me I’m pretty.”

“TAKE THOSE OFF YOUR HEAD RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”

“ _Tell me I’m pretty, Lovi._ ”

Lovino lunged forward and grabbed for the underwear but Antonio was too quick. He had the pair in his hand already, extended above his head. Lovino reached up for them but was mortified for a new reason: their distinct height difference.

“You bastard!”

“I’ll give them back, I promise!” Antonio chuckled.

Lovino sighed, then glared at Antonio for tricking him into relief.

“…if you wear them.”

_I’ll fucking kill him_.

* * *

Antonio coughed into his hands and wiped a stray tear from his eye. Lovino giggled darkly.

“ _L-Lovi_ ,” he hacked. “I don’t think I l-like this.”

Lovino rolled his eyes and took a smooth hit off the joint he had Matthew deliver to them. It was nice having spending money again. He strained his throat to not have a coughing fit—he needed to look good, damn it!

“Give it a minute, Toni,” he said in a tight voice. “Aren’t you older than me? Is this really your first time?”

“I’m a good Catholic boy, Lovi.”

“And here you are, the gayest person I know.”

Antonio laughed and looked around slowly. “I think I feel it.”

Lovino put out the little white stub and sat it on his window sill before the two men pulled their heads back into the bedroom and out of the cool night air.

The Spaniard looked around the room and took in the slight change in how he perceived everything. He stumbled back onto the bed and his hand landed on the panties previously on his head.

“Lovi, I did my end of the deal,” he called out as Lovino pulled out some incense to cover the smell of weed and shame. “Now you need to hold up your side.”

Oddly enough, Lovino didn’t seem embarrassed by the reminder. His cheeks reddened slightly and Antonio decided he liked the way he looked when he was stoned: his eyes were red and his face was relaxed whether he liked it or not. There was something endearing about the genuine expression.

Lovino fell onto the bed next to him and stretched, letting out a small noise close to a moan.

“You’re a fucking pervert,” he said airily.

“And you’re a criminal,” Antonio teased. “Panty time!”

Antonio playfully tugged at the smaller man’s jeans and chanted, “Panties! Panties!”

Lovino weakly kicked his legs around and struggled to sit up. “Fine, fine! Just stop being so fucking… so fucking… shit, what was I going to say?”

“Sexy.”

“ _I know I am but what are you_.”

Antonio placed his hand to his mouth and laughed silently. Okay, maybe he did like these fun little drugs. He stopped long enough to lean over and kiss Lovino, who didn’t struggle or pretend to dislike it. The smaller man leaned into it and kissed back before they leaned back into the bed and made out more comfortably. Lovino hadn’t even noticed the hands on his body until his shirt was halfway up his torso and exposing his flat stomach and protruding hip bones and ribs.

“The fuck,” he said breathily. His shirt was soon on the floor.

“We had a deal,” Antonio reminded him before kissing his jaw. “I’m even helping you out here.”

It took only a minute to find the will to push Antonio off and stand from the bed. His back was turned to the _way too attractive to be real_ Spaniard and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he had he man’s full attention. Antonio’s eyes widened a fraction and he sat up straight.

_I guess if I’m good at this I can get a new job… it’ll probably be less demeaning._

Lovino stretched again because it felt way too good to pass up and he moved his body subtly and smoothly as he unbuckled his belt and slide the rest of his clothes off. He showed no shame when he turned around to retrieve the bedridden panties and slip them on.

His sudden bold attitude could rival Antonio’s.

“There? Are you happy, you perv?”

Antonio’s face was flushed and he nodded. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lovino’s body; his slim legs, his lack of body fat (which was bordering unhealthy but he would be sure to fix that), the way his tanned skin contrasted with the bright underwear and the light from the open window. The strong scent of the incense made Lovino seem, somehow, more beautiful. The smoke floating around made the entire scene look like a fantasy.

“Oh my fucking god,” Lovino’s eyes were set on Antonio’s pants. “Are you for real?”

“Sorry, Lovi,” he said sheepishly. “I got a little side-tracked thinking of my boyfriend.”

The Italian paused and felt his heart quicken. “Boyfriend? Singular?”

“Singular,” Antonio smiled. “If he’ll have me.”

Antonio was roughly pushed onto his back and had a new weight on his chest and a tide of careless kisses sprinkled on his face.

"I think I'll have you right now," Lovino purred, straddling Antonio's hips and kissing the other man's neck. "Have you so hard," he began to grind his hips down against Antonio's crotch.

He had to admit, the panties were turning him on, too. The way the smooth, satin material rubbed his cock just right, allowing it to easily slip past the elastic band and settle against his stomach.

Antonio reached up and playfully spanked Lovino's ass and grabbed the soft cheeks like he was staking his claim. It sent tingles straight to Lovino's cock and the weed certainly was making this a sensual new experience with their senses altered just enough.

They made quick work of removing Antonio's clothing, leaving him stark naked on the bed. Lovino reached down to remove the red underwear but was stopped by demanding hands gripping his hips.

"Leave them on," Antonio said huskily, moving one hand to stroke the straining cock peaking out of the garment. "I want to fuck you like this."

The swearing caught Lovino off guard and he blushed at the familiar sensation of his cock leaking precum. "Since when do you swear?"

"Swearing during sex doesn't count."

Antonio flipped Lovino down to the mattress, hovering over him, asserting himself as the top right off the bat. Lovino reached to his old nightstand and blindly grabbed some lube Antonio had snuck into their cart at the grocery store. Antonio took the small bottle and made sure Lovino's lust-filled eyes watched as he poured some onto his fingers and moved the digits experimentally.

Lovino gave a small nod and Antonio kneeled down, using his dry hand to give a teasing rub to the tented panties. "Spread your legs, Lovi," he commanded. The thin, tanned legs spread automatically. Antonio pulled the crotch of the panties aside, Lovino choking out a moan and shivering with anticipation.

The panties were somewhat in the way but Antonio would die before giving up this fantasy. He reached his hand down, prodding one slick finger against Lovino's needy hole. He eased it in, slowing his movements whenever the Italian tensed up. He thrusted it around, moving as much as he could to prepare the now-writhing mess of a man for another. By finger three, Lovino was bucking his hips, palming his cock, and begging Antonio to hurry up.

The moment came at last. Antonio retrieved his hand, earning a disappointed moan from Lovino, and slicked up his own aching and neglected cock. He teased Lovino's hole with just the tip before taking the plunge and going as deep as he could before his balls were awkwardly caught against the goddamn panties he refused to remove. They were, however, pulled down to expose more of Lovino's genitals and ass.

Lovino's legs were pulled up and his hips lifted from the bed as Antonio gripped him tightly and began thrusting. Lovino hadn't been fucked in god knows how long and knew he was about to blow. He couldn't last against the sexy pool boy with two boyfriends he used to regularly fuck!

"I, I," Lovino stuttered, unable to form a sentence when Antonio was pounding so relentlessly against his prostate and sending stars to his eyes.

There was no way he was going to just come and leave Antonio thrusting for another hour! Lovino inhaled sharply after a particularly hard hit to his prostate and clenched down on the warm cock inside him. Antonio grunted out, not expecting the action. Lovino had come, splattering Antonio's toned stomach, only a minute before Antonio finally lost it as well. The warm liquid felt so dirty and sexy that Lovino was surprised he wasn't already getting hard again.

Antonio slid out, taking the ruined panties with him. "You're so amazing, Lovi," he tried to say as he laid down to cuddle the fucked-out boy. "So beautiful."

Lovino was just glad it was too dark to see the massive blush spreading across his cheeks. Maybe this wasn't just some crush. He could live with being in love with Antonio if he kept saying sweet things after sex.

And by god, Lovino was gonna get as much sex as he could out of the man.


	14. I'm Here

It had been a restless night for Gilbert. The first few hours were spent eyes-closed and turning over and over trying to find a comfortable place. Even in the mild comfort he couldn’t sleep, his mind was too heavy to drift away. The bed was too big now, too cold, too empty. It was wrong to sleep and not wake up on the floor or with two heads against his chest.

It was a mystery to him how Francis could sleep through this, which he assumed to be from the exhaustion of the Frenchman constantly on his feet at work and hustling around. It wasn’t like the department store where Gilbert was usually alone and stuck with his thoughts.

The bed was too hard now and Gilbert reluctantly got up, moving slowly to not awaken Francis. He tip-toed through the bedroom door, leaving it slightly ajar, and sat himself on the couch and stared blankly at their dusty TV. He slept uncomfortably and cold out there.

* * *

Lovino woke with a startle. First, he was actually asleep. Second, he was suspiciously close to that tall piece of shit. The room smelt faintly of incense and he blushed when he understood  _last night wasn’t a dream._

They didn’t have sex, no. Lovino was both relieved and disappointed. There were other things to occur and feel embarrassed about and he cringed when he saw the red panties hanging from his door knob.

_At least we didn’t have sex like I totally fucking wanted. I’m not… mad. No, that would be hypocritical! I said I didn’t want to fuck yet, so…_

_Goddamn it._

A pair of warm hands snaked around his waist and pulled him closer. Lovino was met with the soft and opening sleepy eyes of Antonio. The man smiled gently and nuzzled Lovino’s head.

“Let’s go on a date,” was the first thing he said, voice light with sleep.

“Which public bathroom this time?” Lovino asked sarcastically.

“Maybe the one at the zoo?”

Lovino paused. “You want to go to the zoo?”

“You don’t?”

Lovino snickered and lightly bopped Antonio on the nose. “Fuck you, I love those fucking enslaved animals!”

“That’s… one way of putting it.”

* * *

It would take a few busses to get to the zoo but Antonio wouldn’t relent on the idea since he saw how excited Lovino was, even though he tried his best to hide it. It was adorable how this foul-mouthed and promiscuous man could get so worked up over the idea of seeing the animals. Lovino would forget for a few minutes and Antonio could always tell when he remembered—a smile would crack his stony façade and he’d quickly look down to hide it.

The two opted to skip searching for likely-moldy sunscreen and Antonio ignored the twinge in his heart and the memories of helping Gilbert slather on layer upon layer of sunscreen. Gilbert was albino and naturally very sensitive to light with poor eyesight. It was unique and special and Antonio could never bring himself to be anything but enamored by the tough and sensitive man. Then Gilbert would hunt down his darkest sunglasses and the hat he knew would embarrass Francis the most.

And Francis! He always drove them around while Antonio and Gilbert messed around, either playing the bad-touch game or some annoying car game to see how fast they could get Francis to scream _“if you don’t stop that right this instant I’m turning the car around!”_

Antonio snapped out of his stupor and caught that excited smile on Lovino’s face again.

_Not today_ , Antonio told himself. _Today is all about Lovi_.

* * *

Lovino practically shoved the kids out of his way when he hurried to each exhibit or mini ecosystem. Antonio kept snapping secret pictures and laughing while telling other tired parents, “mine is the one screaming at the giraffes,” when they speak about their kids.

“Oh, the little boy in the green hat?” A blonde woman asked. “He’s a cutie.”

“No,” Antonio responded. “He’s the one in the _Daryl Dixon_ T-shirt.”

“The… that grown man?”

“He’s so cute, si?”

The woman stared at him incredulously and grabbed her own children’s arms before rushing off to a different animal. He stayed back and watched for a minute longer as Lovino lost his control over his excitement.

“YEAH, EAT THAT FUCKING LEAF. CHEW IT, YOU BASTARD. CHEW. GOD, I LOVE GIRAFFES. TONI, LOOK AT THIS MOTHERFUCKER!”

* * *

The cat house was Antonio’s favorite stop. It was an indoor area full of different cats and lions and nocturnal animals. The lights were dim with some black-lights to highlight anything neon. Little kids would giggle and stomp their bright shoes… as would Lovino when he realized his shoelaces were lit like a Christmas tree.

Lovino shrieked when he saw the bats display and one flew near the glass. He then quickly looked around to see if anyone saw him. They went on and stopped for a while at the fennec foxes bouncing around their tiny environment.

“That’s fucked up,” Lovino said lowly. “I love this place but fucking imagine that this is your whole life, trapped in a box while kids laughed at you.”

“And grown men scream encouragement.”

“ _I’m tremendously proud of what I did for those giraffes_ , shut up.”

They watched the foxes as one grew tired and went into his little home and the other stared out into the small area and the lack of actual running space.

“They can paint it to look like their home but it’s just a box.”

“Lovi, did you take philosophy in college?”

“It was a gen. ed. requirement. Why?”

“No reason.”

A group of kids came into the area and the men chose to finally leave and face the sunlight again. The warm air felt good in contrast to the AC pumped into that hall. Antonio was ready to break his own rule and ask what Lovino meant by the deep fox comments but dropped it when he saw excited eyes turn to him and a smaller hand grab his wrist and take off.

They sprinted around the kids and old people with strollers to the enclosures. Lovino even demanded the petting zoo be visited because he was _not_ about to miss out on any of these animals. The two walked around the small farm-like setting and petted the baby pigs and fed the greedy little goats. They jogged out of there and immediately found the building that was foggy and humid. Lovino wasn’t about to miss out on the frogs and alligators either.

Their feet hurt and they were exhausted, hot, and hungry. Lovino finally gave up on running everywhere and was ready to admit defeat. Antonio snuck his hand into Lovino’s and the smaller man didn’t fight it despite his issue with intimacy in public; he was too distracted by his excitement to care.

They walked more lazily, hand-in-hand, through the gardens and by the peacocks (which Lovino shied away from). There was a bridge over the duck pond that they walked across and took a break on. Lovino stared out into the water and past the fountains to the ducklings following their mother and swans gliding around. Dragonflies buzzed around them and Antonio took the moment as a sign, like last night, to make a move. It can’t be wrong if it feels like a fantasy!

Antonio ducked his head down and caught Lovino’s lips. He was pleasantly surprised to feel arms around his neck rather than hands beating his chest away. He held Lovino’s waist and they melted into each other and ignored the passing “awes” of strangers.

What they couldn’t ignore was a gasp and a “ _Fratello_?”

They broke apart and Lovino felt his stomach drop to his feet when he saw his brother and Ludwig further down the bridge. There was a happy twinkle in Feliciano’s eyes and a hurt expression on Ludwig’s face.

The German asked, “Antonio?” as if hoping for it to be a look-alike. “This is why my bruder won’t talk to me? Because you…”

Antonio looked away. “We broke up. Lovi had nothing to do with it.”

“You moved on pretty fast,” Ludwig bit back, allowing his sympathy for his brother to seep out. “I can see what he meant to you.”

That comment made Antonio’s bones ache and stomach rupture. “Ludwig, not now,” he pleaded. “You know how I felt.”

The German shook his head and turned around, giving no more words. Feliciano sent his brother an apologetic look before turning to follow Ludwig and try to figure out what just happened.

It was silent and strained after that. Lovino couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but numbness or needle pricks in his heart.

_I knew it. All I did was destroy their relationship and now I’m destroying my brother’s._

* * *

Francis was already home when Gilbert returned from work. The man was sitting on the couch and it was just like the day Antonio left. The albino felt the hair on his neck stand and he tried to keep his breathing right as he approached his boyfriend and sat with him, waiting for the inevitable.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice.

Francis looked away for a moment and contemplated going to their room for the pack of cigarettes on the dresser. “I should be asking _you_ that.”

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Gil! You’ve barely slept in our bed all month and I know you slept on the couch last night. You’re always home late, you barely even look at me anymore! So what is it?”

“I…” Gilbert swallowed hard and stared into those hurt eyes of Francis.

“What? Are you going to leave, too?”

Gilbert felt a sudden heat in his cheeks and a burning in his eyes. “You are.”

“What?”

“Just admit it! You had Toni first and I was there _last_! I was just there because you both liked me and now it’s just _us_. So just fucking _tell me_ I’m no good alone because I know that’s how you feel.”

Francis stared with wide eyes as a few tears slipped down Gilbert’s reddened face. “Is that what you think? Do you really think Toni was the only reason I dated you?”

Gilbert reached for a tissue to wipe his eyes and he looked away. Francis placed a hand to his cheek and rubbed it with his thumb.

“I would never do that to you. I love you for you, not because some dopey Spanish guy liked you. I would hope you feel the same way. We’re just as good when it’s just _us_.”

Gilbert sobbed and Francis reached forward to hold the man against his chest.

“I m-miss him,” Gilbert hiccupped into Francis’s shoulder.

“I do, too, Gil. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

* * *

By the time they were back home Antonio was acting normal again but Lovino refused to fall for the act. He knew he messed up what used to make Antonio happy. If it weren’t for him, Antonio probably wouldn’t have left his old home. Maybe it was time he cut things off before they were in too deep. It probably wasn’t too late to fix their polyamorous romance.

Lovino approached the taller man in their bedroom, closing the door to eliminate the only escape route besides plunging a few stories to death.

“Hey, shut up.”

Antonio turned around and smiled. “I wasn’t talking, Lovi.”

“What did I just say?” He groaned lightly and sat on the bed, motioning for Antonio to join him. “We need to talk.”

Antonio didn’t like the sound of that but nodded for the other to continue.

“You’re not happy and I’m not happy to do that. So pack your shit and go back.”


	15. Flowers

“I’m not leaving,” Antonio said sternly. “Not because something ridiculous happened to make you feel bad about yourself!”

Lovino furrowed his brow. “Shut the fuck up! You were happy with them for years, just talk it out and make up! Jesus Christ! It’s not like they beat you, they just loved you too much! Fuck!”

Lovino knew he made a mistake when Antonio instantly leaned away and his expression softened, eyes glassy. The man was silent and still, not acting upon the previous passion and not being himself.

“Did they… hurt you?”

Antonio shook his head. “They never did. They just helped me out after my parents did.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Antonio waved his hand. “It’s okay.”

They stared at the wall and ignored each other and the situation. Lovino played with the hem of his shirt and internally kicked himself. Antonio wiped his eyes and straightened up.

“You’re a masochist.”

Lovino flinched. “What?”

“You like being alone and miserable. And you like living like _this_.”

Lovino’s face heated and he felt trickles of rage in his heart. “Why the fuck would I like being alone and friendless and hungry, you hypocritical bastard?”

Antonio stared at him with understanding eyes, something Lovino wasn’t used to seeing when he exploded on people. “You think you deserve it. You think if you’re happy then the world will stop turning, or something. It’s not rational and it’s not fair, but you think you’re just meant to be unhappy and if you’re not, something is seriously wrong.”

Time stopped in that moment. Something connected in Lovino’s brain that hadn’t existed before. He never thought to examine his feelings nor did he ever want to, it was a waste of time. Every time he tried to think about emotions he would end up feeling worse than before.

But this time Antonio did it for him, Antonio told him what he was and how he felt. There wasn’t room for Lovino’s brain to say _no, you’re wrong, you’re really meant for poverty. There isn’t ‘someone for everyone’ so stop living in fairytale world. Life isn’t fair._

“W… how…” was all Lovino could utter, trying to move time forward and just leave this moment of self-realization.

Antonio placed an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and hummed lightly. “I used to be the same way.”

_But he was abused, he had the right to feel shitty._

_The fuck did he **just** say? Shut up._

“You need to stop searching for something that’ll hurt. Just stop and appreciate what you have without second guessing yourself.”

_Jesus Christ. He really is an angel._

“And I’m not moving out.”

_He’s so nice, maybe he’s just extra nice to me?_

“And you’re not breaking up with me.”

_Maybe he’s right?_

“And I’m going to take care of all of this.”

_I can at least enjoy him while he’s here. That’s… logical. To **thoroughly** enjoy the hot Spanish guy before he leaves._

“And we’re going to have sex and eat ice cream.”

Lovino squeaked and turned away from Antonio in embarrassment. “Who the fuck just says that?!”

Antonio giggled and pulled Lovino closer. “It lightens the mood.”

Sweaty and tired from their outing, they stripped off their shoes and shirts and agreed to be comfortable. No stress, no worries, no talk of breaking up, and lots of ‘couple activities.’ They’d take care of everything tomorrow, the promise of talking to Feliciano and Ludwig was the only thing that calmed Lovino down enough to enjoy the night… and Antonio.

* * *

The Italian was still asleep in bed when Antonio snuck off to the kitchen with the other man’s phone. He scrolled through the contacts before settling on calling Feliciano to try to smooth things over and let Lovino have more time to relax.

_Ring, ring, ring…_

_Ring, ri—_

_“Fratello! You never call me this early! Ciao!”_

Antonio bit his lip. “Sorry, Feli, it’s Antonio. Lovi’s asleep and I _really_ wanted to talk to you about yesterday before he woke up…”

There was a pause on the other end. _“Oh, you mean… I see. What happened, Toni? Ludwig seemed upset but wouldn’t talk about it.”_

“It was because of me, Feli. I used to date his older brother and another man. Gil said Ludwig hadn’t introduced you to him yet. He thought Ludwig was ashamed of his brother being in a polyamorous relationship.”

_“I see. Luddy always said his brother was a lot to handle. He never mentioned the… dating…”_

“You probably hate me for dating your brother.” Antonio sighed and rubbed his neck. “I’m sorry for this unpleasantness. I was unhappy and broke up with Gil. Lovi and I didn’t date until _after_ that.”

_“Uh huh.”_

“I’m sorry,” he wasn’t sure what else to say. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you two were mad at me. And I know I have no room to ask for favors, but…”

_“What?”_

“Lovi works with Gil and it would mean a lot to me if you could convince Ludwig not to mention this to him yet.”

The line was silent and Antonio was ready to hang up and pray that everything worked out for the people he hurt. He felt blessed when he heard Feliciano speak up again.

_“You make Lovi so happy. I could never be mad at you, but I’ll pretend for Luddy. I’ll talk to him, okay? Now go make the love to my brother!”_

“FELI!”

Feliciano giggled before hanging up his phone. He thought to himself, _He’s just what Lovi needs._

* * *

The face Lovino made when he was told everything was already taken care of melted Antonio’s heart. The young man looked so relieved. They chose to spend the day in bed just talk and get to know one another on a deeper level. It was embarrassing when they noticed their knowledge was so limited and mostly based on initial infatuation and observation. They knew little to no minor details and, for some reason, that really bother Lovino.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Green. What’s your middle name?

“Romano. What’s your favorite show?”

“ _Game of Thrones_. How many siblings do you have?”

“Two.” Lovino smirked at the surprise in Antonio’s eyes. “Feli is my little brother. I have a half-brother but he lives in Italy with his mother.”

“Oh, wow. So were your parents divorced then?”

“Nah. Dad just got around a lot in the nineties. Mom would divorce him but then she’d have to move away and stop banging dad’s best friend.”

“Oh my.”

“My parents are ridiculous.”

Antonio giggled and moved a stray hair from Lovino’s face. “My parents were really strict. They didn’t beat me a lot, but they did it when my grades slipped or if they were particularly irritable. They only ever let me leave the house for school-related things. I ended up tutoring Francis for four years in Spanish, at his house. He never took Spanish.”

Lovino chuckled and felt guilty for laughing at something related so closely to abuse. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Never mind.”

Antonio smiled and his eyes lit up. “I have a new idea for our next date!”

Lovino raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“We go out in public and play a game I like to call _how dare you_.”

* * *

The game was simple and something Lovino took to quickly. There were quite a few games Antonio liked to play that involved the reactions of the general public. This one was an amusing game that tested their poker faces since the goal was for them to get irrationally mad at anything they could through the day. They were never truly mad but the shocked passing people was worth it.

They began at a park, seated together at a bench. People were out walking their dogs, having picnics, or playing with their kids. The lovebirds watched on and waited until someone could get close enough to hear them (because what was the point in starting if there was no one to hear the petty beginnings?).

“It really is a beautiful day,” Antonio commented, head tilted to the sky.

“Just like me.”

“Lovi!”

Lovino smirked and anticipation grew when he saw a group of teens coming by. They were almost close enough, almost….

“You know, Lovi, we should go look for TV’s after this.”

The group was upon them. Lovino stood up, raising his arms, acting enraged. “How _dare_ you! You know how I feel about television!”

The group paused momentarily as teenagers do, ready to listen in to the dramatic gay man.

“We are a good Catholic family and we only read the bible, not your satanic television!”

Antonio stood as well, fighting a smile. “I CONVERTED TO JUDAISM LAST MONTH.”

“I THOUGHT YOU LOVED THE LORD, _JESUS_.”

“THE ONLY THING I LOVE IS SUCKING—”

The teens ran off as the situation escalated. In the distance they could see a disgusted family pick up their belongings and leave the park in a rush. The men watched in amusement and took their tirade to their next stop, an electronics store to buy that TV Antonio desperately needed.

* * *

The apartment looked much better after Gilbert moved all of Antonio’s boxes to the closet or corners of the living room and under blankets to look like tables. He was relieved to see his relationship with Francis had not waivered like he had feared. He even felt a new spark between the men where Antonio used to be. There was no waiting his turn, no giving up his own time. It was all him and all Francis. The Frenchman sometimes returned home from work with food and Gilbert always returned the favor with flowers or something from his store.

They replaced the picture frames filled with Antonio to the two of them or of family. They felt something akin to whole. There was a quietness within their home and there was less worry.

Antonio wasn’t there anymore to fuss over.

When Gilbert returned home from work one evening he was pleased to see the lights dimmed and a few vanilla-scented candles lit. Francis was sitting on the coffee table, his hair down, and only wearing one of Gilbert’s stretched out shirts.

“Welcome home.”

“Do I smell potatoes?”

Francis groaned and snapped his fingers. “Over here, Gil. Eyes on me.”

“Did you bring home potatoes?”

“Yes, it’s in the fridge and you can have it later.”

“But I want it now.”

“GILBERT.”

The albino chuckled and began taking his clothes off. “I think I can wait. You’re my favorite potato.”

“We really need to work on your flirting.”

They had a weird night after that. There was a new rule placed in their home: _NO, MASHED POTATOES CAN’T BE USED AS LUBE. PUT DOWN THE BOWL, GIL._

It was an oddly specific rule, but it was theirs.

* * *

_“I’m sorry! You’re mad at me…”_

_“I love you, Lizzie. And everything works out the way it’s supposed to.”_

_“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.”_

_“Just… just look at the flowers, Lizzie.”_

Antonio gasped and held onto Lovino’s hand tightly. “How could they—she—Lovino, why?!”

Maybe it was a bad idea to start off their experience with the new TV watching post-apocalyptic shows on Netflix, but _damn it_ , Lovino needed to see his zombie slaughtering! The Italian rolled his eyes and set his head against Antonio’s shoulder.

“Get used to it. It only gets worse from here.”

Antonio sniffled and leaned into Lovino’s warmth. “Who’s your favorite character?”

“Glenn.”

“Why?”

“He kicks ass. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“I like the guy with the vest.”

“His name is Daryl and I’d dump your round ass if you didn’t.”

“Yeah! That Daryl guy is pretty hot. He reminds me of someone, though.”

“If you say the guy from _Boondock Saints_ I’m gonna eat your ass.”

“You’re not going to—” Antonio’s cheeks reddened. “Did you say _eat_?”

_Oh fuck. THIS IS NOT A DRILL, WE FUCKED UP BIG TIME. ABORT MISSION. ABORT. THROW ANTONIO OUT THE WINDOW AND PRETEND THIS NEVER HAPPENED._

“I MEANT KICK! I WOULDN’T—I DON’T WANT TO—IT’S A NICE ASS BUT—FUCK ME RUNNING!”

Lovino curled up and placed his head against his legs, convinced he could disappear like that. Antonio watched him, overwhelmed by how cute this was, and nuzzled Lovino’s exposed neck.

“You’re so cute, Lovi.”

“ _Fuck you_.”

* * *

Around midnight Antonio finally sat up from bed, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to sleep with his mind so jumpy. Lovino’s words echoed in his ears and had been on the back of his mind all day. He couldn’t forget it and he also couldn’t deny it: he was happy with Gilbert and Francis. He loved them.

He tip-toed out of the bedroom, giving a glance to the sleeping Italian who hadn’t been able to enjoy rest for years. The man looked so happy to be asleep. Antonio frowned and grabbed his cell phone before he left the room and stood just outside their apartment.

“ _Hola_ , Emma,” he said nervously into his cell phone after Emma had picked up. “I need to talk.”

_“What’s wrong? You sound weird.”_

“I’m still in love with them.”

_“Francis and Gilbert?”_

“Si…”

_“What about your new boyfriend?”_

“I… I’m in love with him, too.”


	16. Short

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss them. Antonio had avoided the feeling long enough—now it was back in his face. The liberating feeling of independence and new love was wearing off fast and he had to confront the underlying feelings he ignored: he missed them. He missed Francis and Gilbert and he still loved them.

He was pretty sure he was falling hard for Lovino as well… and he didn’t do well with heartbreak. He’d either have to deal with the loss of two great loves or break Lovino’s heart… he chose to suffer himself. He was good at taking pain.

Antonio couldn’t eat his lunch all week at work. Déjà vu was a son of a bitch sometimes.

* * *

It had been a pretty good week for Lovino. He was rested, earning more money at work, and he could feel the warmth spread through his body when he was reminded of that boyfriend of his. He was definitely in love and he was just deep enough in to ignore the doubts and fears.

And the red flags.

He had an early shift at work and returned hours before Antonio would, so he abused his new privilege to take naps now that rest wasn’t an issue. No more insomnia and much less crankiness, all thanks to that creep he liked to see naked.

He had dealt with the same reoccurring dream once more. When he woke up he felt uneasy despite knowing it was just some stupid theatre show in his head. He recalled being in the hallways of the school, passed by blurry and faceless people. The only person he could see was Antonio beside him, walking him endlessly through the building. He didn’t know what it was that bothered him so much, but he had a feeling it had to do with the only two faceless people he noticed: the one with red eyes and the companion with long blonde hair.

* * *

Antonio sat on the curb outside his building with his phone clenched to his ear. He cringed slightly at the tone Emma had taken with him on the other end.

“I’m sorry, Emma! I can’t help it! I don’t know why I keep changing my mind like this…”

There was a sigh. _“You should have just talked it out with them, not leave so dramatically.”_

“You were on my side before!”

_“I’m your best friend, Toni, and I care about you enough not to sugarcoat this. You messed up and now you have to deal with missing them or missing_ him _. And I’m sorry, but you know you loved Gil and Francis. This Lovino is just exciting because he’s new.”_

Antonio rubbed his neck with his other hand and winced. “There’s something in Lovino. He has something they don’t and, well, it seems _better_. There’s a magnetism to him they never had.”

_“That’s infatuation.”_

“He’s more than that!”

_“Look, Toni, I told you my opinion. I need to go. I hope you can figure things out.”_

The line went dead and the Spaniard sat there, alone and cold. He had no idea what he was supposed to do about all of this but he knew he needed to talk to Lovino about it, something he didn’t do before with Gilbert and Francis. He worried, knowing that now the stakes were higher: he risked both relationships being lost and unsalvageable.

That bus ride home was longer than any he ever had in polyamory.

* * *

It was like before, with Antonio arriving home slightly late to a worried Lovino waiting on the couch, phone in hand. The Italian instantly knew something was wrong by the guilty look in Antonio’s downcast eyes. There were rocks filling Lovino’s chest and a few stray pebbles broke into his heart where they sat heavy.

“What’s wrong?” He asked weakly, voice missing its usual sass and confidence. Antonio couldn’t look him in the eye and he knew it was something terrible.

Antonio sat down with his boyfriend and looked up momentarily to see a familiar worried expression. “I love you, Lovi—”

“There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”

Antonio winced and nodded. “But I still love Francis and Gilbert as well. I’m so sorry…”

He regretted everything. The shattered look on Lovino’s face killed him, the way the Italian man became so quiet and motionless. Lovino shuttered and looked down, his hair falling in his face. Even that curl of hair on his head seemed to droop lower than usual.

“I told you to go back,” was the first, defeated thing he could say. “I told you and you said you were over them!”

Antonio gulped. “I-I’m sorry, Lovi. I thought—”

“What did you think?!” Lovino lashed, some life returning to his watery gaze. “That you could have it all? That you could just leave two men you’ve been _screwing_ for ten years with no problems? That you could just start fucking a younger guy and pretend everything is normal?”

Antonio flinched when Lovino stood from the couch and turned his back, hands over his mouth.

“You’re a fucking _whore_. You miss being fucked by two bastards, right?” he breathed out.

“Lovino, you know it wasn’t—”

Lovino turned around and Antonio caught sight of the few tears that spilled over. “Just go the fuck back already.”

Then, amazingly, Antonio felt the same crack within his chest as he felt during his last breakup. He stood, eye-to-eye with Lovino. “Calm down! We’ve been dating, what, two months? I’m trying to get these issues out as soon as I can to prevent the same problem as my last relationship! I came to you and told you that I’m _sorry_ to be wrong about being over them! I’m trying to be an adult with you but you’re so bent out of shape you take _feelings_ as a personal attack!”

Lovino wiped his tears roughly with his sleeve. “Oh, boo hoo! Poor fucking Antonio has such a big fucking heart! His weakness is how much he loves! Jesus fucking Christ, just accept that you fuck up romances, you idiot!”

“At least I’m not some reclusive, _short_ , angry little pothead who needs to constantly swear to feel big and starve himself to pretend to be a martyr!”

“At least my parents loved me!”

“At least my parents loved _each other_! You come from a long line of whores! _You’re a whore!_ You demanded we take STD tests and I saw how nervous you were before you got your results! You fucked so many people you thought you had something! At least I only had sex with my two, handsome, _committed_ boyfriends!”

The tears and warm cheeks of Lovino’s were completely gone, now replaced with his tense jaw and clenched fists. He was a bomb ticking down. “ _I’M NOT FUCKING SHORT!_ ”

Lovino was ready to start throwing punches and to start an actual fight with this man he felt betrayed by… he didn’t expect for Antonio to snicker and hold a hand to his lips. The snickering couldn’t be stopped and soon the Spaniard was laughing loudly and uncontrollably. The man had to sit down and had a few tears of his own begin to fall.

“What the fuck?” Lovino muttered, baffled by the reaction. “Hey, dumbass? We’re fighting.”

Antonio let out a strange, high-pitched sound. His cheeks hurt and he tried desperately to calm himself. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he laughed.

It almost pissed off Lovino more how fast the anger drained from him and how fast he caught a few laughs from the plague named Antonio. He was giggling, trying to hide it. “You fucker.”

Antonio wiped his eyes and said between laughs, “You—you didn’t care I called you a whore or—or a stoner! You—you were mad—I called you _short_!”

_“Because I’m not fucking short.”_

The air cleared and the two sat together again, silently trying to compose themselves and figure out what the hell just happened. Antonio was unsure how to approach this since his last intense fight ended in him running away and Lovino didn’t know what to do now that he wasn’t mad anymore.

_Wait, why aren’t I mad? I’m always mad. We were fighting, how do I feel better? The fuck is happening?_

“Did we get it out?” Lovino asked, voice unsure. He turned to Antonio, face riddled in confusion. “I’m not mad. Are you mad?”

“No, actually. Are you upset?”

“Not as much,” Lovino admitted. He raked a hand through his hair and blushed. “I guess I overreacted. You were… just… telling me the truth… it would have been worse if you hid it.”

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have jumped into a relationship so fast—but I can’t say I regret it.” He clarified when he saw Lovino’s hurt expression.

“What do we do now, Toni? You like all of us.”

“ _Love_. I love all of you. I don’t know what to do, I broke up with them already but this might be an obstacle for us.”

Lovino’s face deepened in hue. “You _really_ love me?”

“Of course, Lovi!” Antonio smiled brightly. “Maybe more than them.”

“Then I think I know what we need to do.”

Antonio sat up straighter. “Really? What?”

Turning his head to hide his embarrassment, Lovino replied, “We need to see if those bastards want a few more sexy men in their life.”

* * *

_Antonio loves me… and I love him. He’s an idiot but… I think I love him enough to make him happy..._


	17. Super AIDs

Francis was more than a bit annoyed to see Antonio and Lovino together at his door at nine in the morning. Both men looked apprehensive and were dressed decently, as if they spent an hour at home ‘picking out clothes’ to stall this meeting… which they did, but Francis didn’t need to know that. In the background Gilbert was still waking up, notably grumpy, having not slept much from a… _busy_ night.

“You brought your new boyfriend to pick up your leftovers?”

Antonio laughed awkwardly. “Kind of!”

Gilbert stumbled out into the living area where he could see the guests. “You really traded down, Toni.”

Lovino narrowed his eyes and Antonio asked, “How do you know about us?”

“That Alfred kid said he saw you two making out at the park a while back.”

_God fucking damn it, Alfred._

Lovino cleared his throat and tried to appear taller. “We need to talk to you bastards about something kind of important.”

Francis rolled his eyes and invited the two in. He was done feeling hurt and put up a wall or two to keep Antonio out. “Have a seat.”

The four sat around their kitchen table, having to drag a couple of chairs in for everyone. Francis and Gilbert had decided to change as much as they could to only fit two people, trying to embrace their smaller number.

Lovino looked over and saw the uneasiness on the three exes faces and internally sighed before just doing the talking himself. “Alright, idiots, listen up. You two jerks miss Toni, don’t you?”

Gilbert’s cheeks turned pink and Francis faked shock. They stumbled over their words, trying to refute it and act perfectly happy without him.

“That’s a yes,” Lovino said flatly. “Good news, Antonio misses you morons, too… for some reason.”

The mood changed and Francis and Gilbert dropped their acts. They looked relieved, concerned, and suspicious. Antonio looked away, bashfully tapping his fingers together.

“So I propose a plan to get you fuckers to stop moping and crying in the shower because you think no one will notice. _Try again_.”

“Try again?” Francis asked, voice tinged with irritation.

“He wants us to be happy,” Antonio spoke up softly. “He doesn’t want us to lose something as strong as we had. We’ve been doing a lot of talking and the problem was that I never said what bothered me.”

Gilbert slowly added, “We shouldn’t have been so… motherly. You’re a grown man…”

Francis admitted, “And I shouldn’t have wasted so much money while complaining about needing to save… I think that weird shoe print on the mattress plastic was a sign to ease up. It was a sign from the Heavens!”

“That if Francey didn’t stop wasting money he’d get a boot up his ass,” Gilbert smirked.

_Oh shit, that’s where my nap spot went? These fuckers keep interrupting my life!_

“Good to see you bastards are in a forgiving mood,” Lovino said curtly, jealously oozing into his being now that his boyfriend was actually reconciling with his exes.

Francis had a feeling this meeting would take a while and got up to start the coffee machine. They would surely need it.

* * *

An hour later and it was agreed, by all four men, that the original breakup was a result of poor communication. The three exes began explaining their feelings, their thoughts, and asked Lovino to give his opinion. They knew he wouldn’t favor Antonio… he was actually harder on him.

Francis felt too comfortable with their relationship and felt the need to continue treating Antonio like the same abused boy who used to spend weeks at his house during high school because his dad would be in a rage and kicked him out. He couldn’t forget the way Antonio flinched and was so sensitive. He was terrified of ever making Antonio feel that way again that he avoided anything confrontational to him… which led to all his frustrations being focused on Gilbert.

But Gilbert liked the occasional fight or arguing. He didn’t take it quite as seriously and had the mentality that it was almost like a game to prove himself innocent of whatever stupid reason Francis had to argue. He was so bored when he was unemployed that he would play random pranks, regardless if they bothered his boyfriends or not. He, however, did get frustrated at Antonio’s tendency to be messier after a long day of work—resulting in, of course, a tongue-lashing from Francis about _at least Toni has a job! Leave him alone!_

And the feeling of being a third wheel grew. Gilbert was the third, not one of the original couple. Every fight made him feel more and more like the bad guy or the spare part in case of a lost piece. When Antonio was mad at him, Francis intervened to prevent him shooting anything back. When Francis was stressed it was somehow Gilbert’s fault.

Then there was Antonio, raised to be obedient. Though he spent a lot of time with Francis since high school, he couldn’t shake the gnawing bugs inside his head that told him to keep it to himself, don’t bother them, _be good and pretend it’s all okay_. He didn’t know how to say he was upset or how to handle frustrating situations—he was always treated like a child! There was no communication when it was negative, not for Antonio. Bottling it all up led to their fight. It was going to happen sooner or later that it all blew up.

It wasn’t Francis or Gilbert’s ideal way to work things out with their ex’s new boyfriend as their relationship counselor… then again, the new boyfriend was the one who wanted them to be happy and talk it out.

Lovino scratched his eye and took a sip of his eighth cup of coffee. “Alright, jerks. What I get from this is Francis tried to protect Antonio, who didn’t need to be protected. Then that deflection always made Gilbert feel inadequate. But Antonio wanted to be treated as an adult, but was too afraid to talk or was ignored. So you idiots need to act like fucking adults and talk like fucking adults. _It’s not that hard_. That’s literally your only problem. No one cheated and no one hits anyone—”

Gilbert snickered, “Well, in bed—”

“SHUT IT, FREAK,” Lovino hissed, almost choking on spit. “MY FUCKING POINT IS YOU CAN ALL DATE AGAIN IF YOU FUCKING GET OVER THIS SHIT AND MAKE CHANGES. _GODDAMN_.”

Under the table Antonio snaked his hand into Lovino’s lap and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Gilbert caught the small action and felt himself missing Antonio’s warmth again.

“Why did you come back?” He asked, voice steady. “Why would you try to send him back to us?”

Lovino sighed and blushed. “Because you idiots deserve each other.”

_Because he deserves to be happy…_

Of course, Antonio wouldn’t allow Lovino to martyr himself. “I want to try to make us work… _all_ of us.”

Francis coughed. “All? Do you mean…?” He waved his index finger around the table, pointing to each person individually. “ _All_ all?”

“I love all of you, and if you can all love each other… then things could get pretty interesting, si?”

Lovino blushed more. _At least these idiots won’t know it was my idea. That’s my good little sexy scapegoat._

With some hesitation, Gilbert and Francis agreed. They wanted Antonio back and they figured it couldn’t hurt to try out an Italian for a while. They used to hear rumors all the time from their friends of this hot, tan Italian man they used to fall in love with for the night. Poor Emma even lost a pair of perfectly lacey panties to the mystery man.

Hopefully Lovino will be half as good!

* * *

_“Ohh, Fratello! I knew it! I knew you could have all of them!”_

“Shut the fuck up! This is just some stupid trial run! I want to know what Antonio saw in these morons!”

_“Probably each other.”_

“FELI!”

_“Did you finish the application?”_ Feliciano asked playfully.

“…”

_“Gil… Gil actually has one, doesn’t he?”_

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lovino made an excuse to leave and shut his phone off. He sighed, placed his phone down, and went back to the four-page packet Gilbert had printed off for him. One page was dedicated to personal history, another like an actual job application, one with dating and sexual agreements (things he was comfortable with, things he liked), and there was even a box asking about possible STD’s.

Gilbert was serious when it came to paperwork. _Fucking Germans_.

Lovino read off the page and began filling in the endless lines of questions. These were just _ridiculous_.

* * *

                  **Full name** : Lovino Romano Vargas

                **Blood Type** : Fuck you

                **Gender** : The fuck do you think

                **Allergies** : Bullshit and ragweed

                **Top or Bottom** : KISS MY ASS

                **Medical Issues** : Insomnia and Sexlexia

                **Drug Use** : I once drank a Red Bull

                **STD’s** : Super AIDS

                **Favorite Position** : Deep-throating some pasta

                **Lube of Choice** : Orphan Tears

                **Number of Previous Sexual Partners** : 69

                **Eye Color:** Asparagus Spears

                **Virgin:** Yes

* * *

“Lovi!” Antonio giggled, peaking over Lovino’s shoulder at the papers. “You have to take this seriously! Gil is very serious about paperwork!”

“I’m being _very_ serious.”

“You don’t have _Super AIDs_.”

“Maybe not but this fucking contract is giving me cancer.”

“Lovi!”

* * *

Gilbert was the only person who didn’t find amusement in the answers Lovino gave. Francis, however, nearly cried when Gilbert read out loud that Lovino’s only weakness is “genetically modified super humans with, like, really well done nail polish.” He even believed one of the only truths—that Lovino went to a pretty decent state college and majored in two subjects, English Literature and Art History, with a minor in Biology. But that seemed irrelevant.

They soon learned Lovino’s sass-to-the-max was a result of him being grumpy and tired when they heard him snoring, curled up on the couch like a cat.

Gilbert grumbled, “Insomnia my ass.”

Francis smiled and patted the albino’s arm. “I’m so sorry, Gil, you seem to have met your match!”

“Hey! I’m still the most awesome! I’m so much better at consolidation forms!”

Antonio rolled his eyes. “But those are boring, Gil.”

“THEY ARE GREAT FUN, ANTONIO.”

It felt right. The hidden hole in their hearts was beginning to fill back up. They didn’t know how it would work out in the end—they would either become a foursome or be back down to two. Francis and Gilbert didn’t want to lose Antonio again and made a promise to themselves that they would do everything they could to work out with Lovino. The idea of a fourth was interesting to them, it would mean no more third wheels and no more of one person getting lonely while the other two were together.

They only worried their fierce personalities might cause too bright of a spark.

They agreed it would be best for Antonio to go back home with Lovino when they were done for the day and they agreed upon dating again; this time they would have to date Lovino and do it separately. Tomorrow would be interesting—Lovino had a date with Gilbert.

After Lovino woke up he and Antonio left the apartment to begin their walk home. Gilbert called after them, “Can’t wait for our date, Lovi baby!”

Antonio’s face turned bright red. If it was anything like _his_ first date with Gilbert then… then Lovino might need to pick up a few condoms and lube… and maybe avoid walking for a while after that.


	18. Coke Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the car I just can't wait  
> To pick you up on our very first date  
> Is it cool if I hold your hand?  
> Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?  
> Do you like my stupid hair?  
> Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear?  
> I'm too scared of what you think  
> You make me nervous so I really can't eat
> 
> [First Date. Blink-182]

Lovino wasn’t big on the idea of dates that occurred when the sun was still up. When he was a bit younger he used to pick up girls and boys at bars, grocery stores, the park— _anywhere_ —and usually got them back to his or their apartment within the hour. He was a pro at one-night-stands and never having to provide dinner first. It wasn’t hard to flip on an accent and speak confidently to get the clothes off his dates. He usually spoke random sentences and the accent wasn’t authentic but rather a touch of what his grandfather sounds like and what he heard on bad daytime TV.

He once had sex with a pair of twins just by reciting an Italian menu.

But here he was, combing his hair in the dirty bathroom mirror while Antonio waited by the window and peeked out to see if Gilbert had arrived yet. The Spaniard was excited for this date and hoped greatly that it would go well for everyone. Even if he and Lovino ended up alone together, he still wanted everyone to get along.

“What exactly does this moron do for dates?” Lovino called from the bathroom, debating if he should try to smooth down his curl or not.

Antonio blushed and stared intently out the window again. “Uh, well, it really depends I guess—”

“Get on with it.”

“Well, you should probably know a few things about Gil first. He’s loud, doesn’t get embarrassed easy, and he has a slight problem with germs.”

“So?”

Antonio smiled as he saw the car pull into the littered lot. “He wears gloves a lot and he likes to mess with people.”

Lovino rolled his eyes, feeling the explanation redundant, and left the bathroom to find his shoes. “What was your first date like, then?”

“Oh, we had sex back at his old place after dinner at some diner that closed down years ago.”

Lovino tripped over one of his shoes. “Jesus Christ, sex on the first date, you slut?”

Antonio giggled and sat on the couch. “Take one look at him without a shirt and tell me you don’t want to have sex with that.”

“He’s a fucking albino.”

“An albino that’s afraid of _nothing_ , if you know what I mean.”

There was a knock on the door and Lovino startled. He went to undo the damaged and rusting locks, whispering back, “You’re fucked up.”

“Tell him the ass line!”

The door flung open and the knob cracked Lovino in the side, causing him to stumble back and hiss out a string of swears. Gilbert let himself in, a bouquet of daisies in his fist, a box of chocolates balanced on his arm, and wearing a boater hat with a red-and-white striped blazer.

There was laughter from the couch and Lovino cringed at the outfit. “Why are you dressed like you’re in a fucking barbershop quartet?”

“Because I make dates memorable, baby.”

“I’m going to gag.”

“Yes you will,” Gilbert winked. Lovino smacked the flowers from his hand.

* * *

The car ride was long. Lovino kept his hand in his face, counting to himself to keep from losing his shit at the moron next to him singing along to “ _First Date_ ” on the radio. When they finally stopped at a restaurant for lunch, Gilbert pulled out a walking cane from the backseat of the car and twirled it around as he and the red-faced Lovino walked the sidewalk to the building’s entrance.

Lunch was an embarrassing ordeal with Gilbert trying to speak with a “radio voice” and removing his hat to fan himself while mumbling about the wicked Georgia heat.

“We’re not even in Georgia, you moron,” Lovino hissed from behind his menu.

Gilbert placed the hat on the table and Lovino cringed at his finely gelled and combed hair—he looked a _lot_ more like his brother with his hair combed. “My, my, Lovino. I promised to take my best lady on a fine date—”

“I’m not a lady.”

“—and I do intend to make this one _gay_ date.”

“ _I don’t like you_.”

After lunch they went back to the car and drove around. Lovino was convinced this was the worst date of his entire adult life, including those times Antonio claimed being in a bathroom stall with him counted as a romantic event.

It had been forty minutes into the seemingly-aimless drive that Lovino finally looked up from the side window and noticed the small smile on Gilbert’s face. It was genuine and soft, something he’d never seen on the blunt man before.

“Where are we going?” He finally asked, looking outside and realizing they’d left the city.

“You’ll see. I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Gilbert smirked.

They pulled into a sunny parking lot and Gilbert reached for the hat forgotten in the backseat. This time he left the cane behind and the two began walking in the hot sun. Lovino still had no idea where they were going but the area felt familiar.

They rounded the corner of a giant building that smelled odd and salty. They reached the front and Lovino felt his heart speed up at the sight of a giant metal shark statue in front of a ticket line. Above the entrance of the building was a large sign with jellyfish and turtles surrounding the word “ **Aquarium** ” in bright colors.

“We’re at the aquarium?” Lovino asked, unable to hide the excitement in his higher-than-usual voice.

“Toni said you liked the zoo a lot. I figured you’d like this, too.”

Lovino bounced on his feet as Gilbert went to buy tickets and led him inside the cool building. The walls inside were covered in shades of blue and life-sized murals of sea life. There was a giant whale statue in a fountain of running water and an elevator leading down to the actual exhibit of ocean life.

They went to the elevator and Gilbert watched as Lovino became more and more excited the lower they got. The doors dinged and opened and they were met by a teenaged employee who had them stand in front of a giant set of fake shark teeth and took their picture. They went on through a tunnel of glass and stopped to stare up and around at the fish swimming by.

“Holy fucking shit, is that a shark?! That’s a fucking shark! GILBERT, TAKE A PICTURE OF THAT SHARK _RIGHT NOW_!”

A pack of small neon-colored fish passed by and Lovino’s eyes sparkled at the sight. He was overwhelmed by the fishes and sea stars and whales. They walked through the entire building slowly so Lovino could stare at every single tank and find every hidden frog or snake or eel. There was no shame in either of the fully grown adults when they entered the children’s play area and found all the frogs in lower displays for children to see.

They sat for nearly twenty minutes just to watch the penguins in their giant enclosure swim around. Lovino even got over his secret fear of everything to pet the small sharks in the next room. He was excited to feel the cold water hitting his elbow as he reached down to pet the reclusive black shark that avoided most people.

When they finally exited the aquarium they stopped by the gift shop and went back to the car. Gilbert was cynical of Lovino before, and he only agreed to try this out for the chance of having Antonio back… but the happiness Lovino was exuding made him feel the same way. There was empathy for everything Lovino was happy for. Knowing he made such a bitter man so childishly gleeful made him feel… what was it, strong? Proud?

While both Gilbert and Lovino only wanted to give dating a try to make Antonio happy, they didn’t even consider that it would realistically work out. Neither had any idea that such a seemingly small gesture as location of a date could unwrite negative feelings… Neither would admit to warming up to the other, either.

* * *

                 **Gilbert : I need the house**

** Gilbert: U have 20 minutes to leave**

** Francis: Condoms are in the drawer.**

* * *

They struggled to get in through the door while making out. Lovino was holding on tightly to the fin of the shark doll Gilbert had bought him and Gilbert tried not to break the key off in the lock he was undoing blind.

They stumbled into the living area and crashed into a few walls here and there on their way to the bedroom. Once inside the room, Lovino sat his doll on a chair and Gilbert dived on the bed to reach for the nightstand drawer. The air was knocked from his lungs when Lovino jumped on his back and started kissing his neck.

“Toni said you could be persuasive,” Lovino breathed into Gilbert’s ear.

Gilbert’s mind flashed with how right Antonio was about Italians being as good as the stereotype claimed.

Lovino couldn’t stop thinking about how fucking awesome sharks are.

It didn't take much for Gilbert to flip Lovino over onto his back, himself now on top and looking down at the tanned manchild he was ready to explore. Gilbert leaned down to start working on Lovino's neck but paused to sit up straight, ass resting on Lovino's thin legs. In a instant he had ripped off his blazer and shirt, hat long gone the moment they entered the apartment. Lovino noticed the white gloves on Gilbert's hands, so pale they blend in with his skin. He chose not to mention it, partially distracted by the muscles he didn't expect to be so defined.

Gilbert looked like a fucking bodybuilder. Even his abs were even and perfect, as one would expect of the OCD man. A shiny metal necklace dangled from Gilbert's neck and rested against his pecs, drawing Lovino's eyes back up and eventually to meet the man's gaze.

They both faltered when it came time to say something, _anything_ , at all. They stumbled with removing Lovino's own shirt, and eventfully removing their pants. Gilbert groaned when he saw, rather than boxers adorning Lovino's hardening cock, there was a frilly pair of red panties.

And Lovino bit his lip and felt himself harden further at the thick outline pushing against Gilbert's black briefs.

The self-proclaimed Prussian nudged Lovino to sit against the headboard and dove down between his legs, holding them apart with gloved hands and nosing at the hardness beneath the tight panties. Lovino inhaled sharply but kept his composure as Gilbert mouthed at his clothed balls and stroked his trembling inner thighs with his thumbs.

"F-fuck me," Lovino panted, voice unsteady. "I want that cock in me _now_."

A twin "Fuck" echoed as Gil pulled the panties down and off Lovino's legs enthusiastically and saw the red and needy member waiting. He slid off the bed to step out of his own underwear and turned back to see the most arousing thing he'd seen in a while: Lovino, lying flat, with one hand between his legs and working himself open while the other tightly gripped the bed sheets. He was the sneakiest little fucker, finding the lube that quickly. Already two fingers thrusting inside himself, stretching his hole for the biggest dick he was about to take.

Gilbert couldn't help but stroke himself while watching Lovino slip in a third finger. The Italian was breathing heavily and fighting thrusting against himself. Gilbert couldn't wait any longer and pushed the legs apart again, pulled the hand away, and hold it to the side. Lovino growled and tried to take his hand back, tried to use the other one at least to touch himself (or anything); Gilbert stopped him and held his arms to his sides.

"You need something inside you that badly?" The albino teased. Lovino blushed and looked away. He yelped when he felt the sudden heat of Gilbert's mouth on his chest, teeth moving to tug at his nipple.

" _F-f-fu-sssso,_ " Lovino cried to himself. He was so aroused it was beginning to hurt. His cock throbbed and his ass needed to feel something, it was too _empty_. He was ready to cry some frustrated tears when he heard a condom being opened and felt the tip of a very much blunt cock nudging at his hole. His arms were free again and he shivered as he felt the large member inch into him. It stung and reminded him of when he was still new to being a bottom.

Fuck if it didn't make him leak precum.

He reached up and latched onto Gilbert's back, feeling the rippling muscles and the way his legs had to spread just a bit wider to fit around his waist.

The thrusting began without warning and it was hotter than hell to be pounded into by such a strong, toned man. His cock rubbed against those hard abs and it felt like heaven to be so fucking full and still have the tip of his cock touched. His precum was slicking away the friction of Gilbert's stomach and his hole was burning so _good_.

"So tight," was all he could make out from the jackhammer above him. It was almost immediately after that Lovino came, hard, onto Gilbert's chest. An orgasm exploded from Gilbert and Lovino felt himself harden a little at the hot cum filling him and slip out along with his partner.

* * *

Antonio and Francis looked up from their game of cards when the door creaked and Lovino stepped in with a doll in his arms. He went to sit at the nearest chair he could find to hide a certain ailment he was suffering from.

Francis looked at Antonio and a smug look appeared on his face. “Good date?”

“Fuck you,” Lovino growled while stroking the fur of his doll.

“Good thing _our_ date isn’t until tomorrow evening,” Francis reminded him. “It’ll give you some time to recover.”

The French man sat his cards down and said his farewells to Antonio. He walked snootily outside, as if rubbing it in Lovino’s face that he can still walk right. Gilbert was waiting outside for the blonde man and they talked about their days as they drove home.

Lovino limped from his chair to join Antonio on the couch. He groaned for his poor ass and leaned into Antonio’s open arms. After a minute of cuddling and being happy to be together again, Lovino sighed into Antonio’s chest. “ _It’s like a Coke can_.”

“You get used to it,” Antonio laughed.

“Jesus Christ, it was like his muscles had muscles.”

“I take it you had a good time?”

Lovino blushed and forced the shark doll against Antonio’s chest, as if trying to cuddling both. “You tipped him off, you fucking cheater.”

“How many kids did you bumrush to get to the fish?”

“…I lost count.”

* * *

That night in bed the two couples talked more about what the future would hold. It was surprising when Gilbert and Lovino admitted to having a good time.

_“He took me to the fucking aquarium!”_

_“He’s just as cute as his brother when he’s worked up!”_

It brought hope that the next date would go well, too. If Lovino and Gilbert could both have a good first date despite their apparent dislike for one another, then anything could be possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the sex scene makes up for me being such an absentee father to ya'll.


	19. Netflix and Chill

Francis had planned around the fact Lovino would be sore for their date. He didn’t like how limited his options became but he did know how to make the best of it and win over the short Italian.

They went to a spa. Before they left the apartment they shared some wine, to ease their nerves and to set a tone for the evening. At the spa they spent their time drinking champagne and being worked on by some pretty attractive people. They’d watch the masseuses leave and the drunker Lovino got, the more he giggled at the faces Francis made at them and the little flirtatious comments.

It had been years since Lovino really drank, and he was still rather thin, making him quite the lightweight. After the spa they went back to Francis’s apartment—which was void of Germans—and they sat together on soft, cushioned chairs at the kitchen table. Francis set the table with plates of spaghetti and glasses of wine with the lights dimmed and candles lit.

Lovino had a hard time distinguishing if it was the wine or the thought put into their evening that made him feel so warm and comfortable. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew he was drunk by now, but he used to get drunk all the time before. Did he forget what it was like or was he feeling something more for this blonde-haired housewife?

Francis stroked his beard in thought and smirked at the starry-eyed Italian across from him. “How about we go to the couch and watch a movie? You don’t seem to hold you liquor well for anything else,” he teased.

“Shut the fug up,” Lovino slurred, no malice to his voice. “I fuggin’ love movies!”

Francis giggled at the reaction and patted himself on the back for finding a way, however crude, to make Lovino _enjoy_ their date. It was harder said than done—and the flushed Italian was only growing more and more entranced by Francis’s smooth tactics. He knew from dating Antonio just how to charm a sap—and a drunk Lovino was like a girl on prom night.

They walked—in Lovino’s case, stumbled—from the dining table and to the couch that held too many decorative throw pillows. Just the fact they had a TV was exciting to Lovino, who had been devastated (and overdramatic) over his own TV’s death.

Netflix was quickly activated while Lovino snuggled himself deeper into the soft mass of pillows and a soft blanket Francis had given him. They sat together, leaning into one another’s warmth, as a show about a woman’s prison popped onto the screen.

* * *

That night ended almost early since Lovino was having trouble staying awake. Francis made no move to engage in anything sexual, not wanting to overstep any lines or take advantage of a man drunker than he was. When the tipsy Italian finally returned home (having caught a ride from Gilbert, who was more than happy to return him and get his own apartment space back), he fell straight into his dusty bed.

“Good date?” Antonio asked, settling down next to his exhausted boyfriend.

“Piper’s a bitch.”

“What?”

Lovino mumbled something and fell asleep just like that. Antonio couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He decided, yes, it had been a good date. Lovino would have been too angry to sleep had it gone poorly—and he was positive Lovino would have been pissed if it had been bad. There were only extremes to how he could have reacted to his dates: he either would be angered it went poorly, knowing the polyamorous plan wouldn’t work and Antonio wouldn’t be able to return to his first two loves. Or it would go well and embarrass Lovino to find he didn’t mind Francis and Gilbert so much.

Lovino mumbled a cute noise in his sleep and he turned a bit, reaching out for the soft, blue shark to his side.

* * *

It had been a month since the first dates between Lovino and the gruesome twosome. There had been follow-up dates scattered throughout the next few weeks, sometimes just simple rounds of speed-dates like when Gilbert and Lovino both had the same lunch break or when Francis and Lovino had the same days off.

They found that both Lovino and Gilbert were proud older brothers. While they wouldn’t admit it, they both seemed to be jealous of their younger brothers’ success, being that Feliciano was better at social situations and Ludwig was better at being a responsible adult.

When bored, Lovino would actually play video games with Gilbert—both getting irrationally angry at the teenagers over Xbox Live. Sometimes Lovino would go out with Francis to the park or mall, somewhere public, and check out strangers together. They sometimes argued over whether someone was handsome or not.

The resentment was fading. Gilbert wanted so hard not to like Lovino, he just wanted his Antonio back and without the _tramp_ to steal him away… But he liked Lovino now. He was cute and funny and he was the missing piece.

The four decided it was time to all be together for some bonding time. They only needed to know one more thing now: would they get along as a group, or could it only work when they were separated in one way or another?

One Saturday when they were all off work they had decided to have their _Ultimate Death-Round Date of Destiny_. Four men enter, one man leaves… then the other three leave. No one actually dies but Gilbert likes being dramatic sometimes.

* * *

“Table for four?”

“Yes, thank you,” Antonio smiled at the young hostess. He gave a reassuring glance to Lovino, who was noticeably nervous about the prospect of all of them being there on an official poly-date.

They were led to a booth in the back of the busy restaurant and Antonio pulled Lovino to sit beside him while Francis and Gilbert were across the table. He knew it wouldn’t have hurt to let Lovino sit with one of the others but he wanted to be able to give a reassuring pat under the table should he see the warning signs of panic arise. The issue of Lovino’s anxiety didn’t arise, nor would it unless he became serious with the others. Antonio kept it to himself and simply remained prepared in case another bathroom-stall incident occurred.

Another woman came by to take drink orders and scurried off to let the men look over their menus.

Francis craned his neck and watched the woman’s ass as she walked away. He smirked over at Lovino, whose eyes had also followed the bootylicious movement. “Seven.”

Lovino scoffed. “ _Please_. It was only a five.”

Antonio was relieved to see the first interaction was involving Lovino. He had been afraid Lovino would be excluded and the boys would fall back into their old habits of it just being the three of them.

“Are you blind?!”

“You’ve seen Toni’s ass, right?”

Antonio blushed and Gilbert snickered. Francis rolled his eyes. “That’s not fair, no one can compare to his _delicious_ , round—”

The waitress was back and setting down drinks in front of everyone. Lovino was biting his cheek to conceal his smile while Antonio stared at the men across from him with wide eyes. She walked away and gave them more time to look over their menus.

The table was calmed down and Antonio sighed in relief.

…

“I miss pounding that sweet, tan ass.”

“ _Gilbert_!”

* * *

They went back to Francis and Gilbert’s apartment. Gilbert went to switch on some show Alfred keeps going on and on about in the break room at work while Francis went to retrieve their black and white box of cards.

“Lovi,” Gilbert’s gruff voice called. “What was that show called? The one the loud diabetic keeps talking about?”

Lovino blew air out his nose at the annoying memory of Alfred’s constant rambling. “It’s the one with the underwear models as the main characters. Keep scrolling— _there_ , that one.”

Francis returned with the box of cards and Antonio helped Gilbert move their coffee table away so they could sit in a circle on the floor for their game. The cards were placed on the floor in piles and everyone grabbed some as the show behind them buffered and finally played.

_Netflix and chill? More like Cards Against Humanity and Supernatural._

Lovino cleared his throat and read his black card out loud. “Maybe she’s born with it. Maybe it’s…” he picked up the three white cards before him. “ _Rush Limbaugh’s soft, shitty body_ …. Maybe it’s _jerking off into a pool of children’s tears_ … Maybe it’s _edible underpants_.”

The man-children all giggled at the cards. Lovino held his face in his hands and laughed his deep, musical laughter. It was a beautiful thing and his dates were all delighted to hear it from the grumpy man.

Lovino held up one card. “Alright, who had the _pool of tears_?”

Antonio’s face was stretched with a huge smile and reached forward for his hard-earned black card. “Me! I had the pool of children’s tears!”

“Jesus Christ, Toni.”

* * *

The sounds of the TV were too distracting and the men were soon seated on the couch and deeply invested in the show playing on the TV.

_Conceal, don’t feel, Lovino. Don’t let them know… you’re secretly Supernatural trash. Gil would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I was the one who got Alfred into it._

_…Wait, when did I start calling him ‘Gil?’ I… oh no. That Sister-Wives bastard Toni is rubbing off on me, and not even the way I want him to!_

The night went on and half a season later they were asleep in an uncomfortable and warm pile on the couch. Legs and arms were intertwined and Gilbert had a mouthful of rose-scented blonde hair.

They were sore the next morning but Lovino and Antonio made no fuss over it, nor did they mention leaving just yet. There was a comforting aura to the apartment, something Lovino craved: this was a home, with food and working faucets and doors with functioning locks. There was no suspicious smells or the sounds of crying babies in the neighboring walls. It was what he hadn’t had since he moved out of his home upon graduation. It was what he’s wanted and worked for but couldn’t have as long as his money went to paying off college debts.

For Antonio it was surreal to be back. It was his old home and he wanted it to be his home again. If they had their way, they’d all be there with Lovino and Antonio moving in and not looking back.

They shared a look with a silent agreement: it was time to weasel their way in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, poor Francis didn't get a real date chapter :/ But that's why chapter 23 exists.


	20. Black Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave it to me to procrastinate Christmas shit til it's October.

Black Friday was a hell storm for the poor retail workers Gilbert and Lovino. They worked the same shift starting seven in the evening the day before, to five in the morning that Friday. They snagged the car and had no time to revel in the small victory.

Every single employee of World Powers were required to work and Lovino, of course, glared at all the high school students who didn’t have to stay all night because the store legally couldn’t keep minors overnight.

The two men struggled to keep the sales floor even remotely clean while their overly-rude customers left tissues from shoes and torn bits of boxes thrown everywhere. When it finally slowed down a few hours into the night, Lovino noticed the way Gilbert was constantly moving and cleaning. The white-haired man was straightening boxes on shelves and picking up every little scrap on the floor—even bits of leaves that fell from customers’ shoes.

He had always been religiously clean and preferred organization, but the way he acted was bordering on crazy.

_Why he is being so obsessive over—wait. OCD, right._

Lovino finished putting up a pair of running shoes and walked to Gilbert’s side, only observing for a few seconds as the man flattened a box perfectly against the wall of ridiculously straight shoes.

“Gil, hold up,” Lovino said slowly, not sure if the man was too deep into his cleaning that he wouldn’t notice the Italian. “Take a break. It’s all clean.”

“No, no, it’s not, it’s _not_.” Gilbert stepped to the side to scan his eyes over every box’s label to ensure the sizes and style were in the right order.

“Yeah, it is. Calm the fuck down.”

There was no sign of stopping. Lovino ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath and reminded himself it wasn’t Gilbert’s fault he was so obsessive, and grabbed _boyfriend number two_ by the arm.

Gilbert stopped to eye the offending hand.

“Gilbert,” Lovino said evenly despite his irritation. “You’re going to take a break _right fucking now_.”

There was no fight left in the exhausted men. Lovino was pleasantly surprised when he was able to pull the much stronger man behind him and through the swinging door to their stock room. They paused there, Lovino wanting to speak with his partner while they were alone.

“I know tonight is stressful for you,” he began, surprisingly calm. “Listen to me when I tell you to take a break, okay? I don’t need you getting too far gone. Tell your OCD to go fuck itself.”

Gilbert gave a weary smile. “I haven’t worked a Black Friday since I was eighteen.”

Lovino patted his bicep and leaned in for a kiss. He broke apart and rested his head on the albino’s shoulder and gently rubbed his hands up the paler man’s arms in a soothing manner.

Gilbert leaned into the touch and wondered if Antonio had taught the Italian a few tricks when he wasn’t around. He wasn’t expecting to hear silent, mumbled counting.

“You’re stressed, too?”

Lovino nodded into his chest. “Let’s go have a quickie in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Lovino grabbed Gilbert loosely around the wrist, making sure to avoid hand-to-hand contact while Gilbert was in stressed-out-germaphobe-mode. They walked quickly to the employee bathrooms tucked away between a few doors in the stock room. Lovino didn't know what was behind the other doors, he didn't care enough to look, but they always muffled loud noises of mechanical equipment.

Inside the bathroom was a full trash can (which Lovino made sure to keep Gilbert from staring at) and a few paper towels across the floor. It was dirty but what else would they expect on such a busy holiday? Even customers would weasel their way back into the employee's only area for a "better" bathroom.

Lovino began to second-guess his plan.

Nonetheless, the tanned retail bitch put on a brave face and dragged Gilbert into the handicapped stall, locking the door himself, pushing Gilbert against the wall. Gilbert was unusually quiet but Lovino knew he was trying to hide his discomfort at the mess. Somewhere deep in that brain was a ridiculous comment trying to make its way to Gilbert's mouth, trying to be _normal_.

They didn't have a lot of time. Lovino went over the options in his head and muttered about gag reflexes. He licked his lips and leaned forward to nuzzle Gilbert's neck.

"I want to taste you, baby." The pet name made him blush and his neck heated up. Gilbert chuckled and returned to himself, even if momentarily. No words needed to be said when Gilbert took Lovino's hand and placed it over his growing erection hidden by ugly khaki.

Lovino easily slid down to his knees and watched Gilbert unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down enough to pull his thick cock out of his underwear. Lovino admired the girth before taking it in one hand and giving a tentative lick to the tip. He eased the tip into his mouth and he began sucking motions as he slid it deeper and deeper, not stopping until he felt the head hit the back of his throat.

One hand rested on his knee while the other worked the little bit of cock that wasn't sunk into his wet mouth. Gilbert groaned and let out whisper-quiet swears as Lovino took his hand away and forced the rest of the cock into his mouth, the blunt head burying deeper into his throat. Lovino's nose rested against Gilbert's taught skin and tears prickled his eyes.

Lovino was a pro and didn't let the forming ache in his jaw stop him from bobbing his head faster and faster. Spit dribbled down his chin and tears slid down his cheeks as he worked to get Gilbert to make more of those beautiful and strained noises.

_Thank god my daddy issues had me whoring around so much. Fuck gag reflexes._

Gilbert tensed and shuddered, not giving any warning as he came and filled Lovino's warm mouth. Lovino didn't stop his movement, though slowed it, until he was sure he had milked every bit of cum from Gilbert's cock. He slide the appendage out and swiped at his drool-covered chin before swallowing.

Gilbert helped him to stand back up and wiped away the stray tears. Unexpected to Lovino, he received a gentle kiss on his forehead too. Now he was blushing again.

_Goddamn it, Gil._

* * *

It was, possibly, the worst Black Friday of their lives. Gilbert wasn’t prepared sufficiently for the social filth and Lovino never had to watch someone he cared about struggle so much. He grumbled to himself for this emotional bullshit and went on his way trying to keep the customers out of his way.

While Gilbert cleaned messes, which assuaged him to a point—which usually tipped to the breaking point—and Lovino tried to help as many people as he could without them going to bother his finicky boyfriend. Every time he saw someone beeline for Gilbert, he stepped in the way and intervened before someone got kicked in the face like Gilbert was a spooked horse.

On their next break Lovino snuck to the cleaning supplies kept further into the stock room and snagged as much as he could without making it obvious he was taking more than he needed. The stock room for their department was shared with the huge backrooms and stockrooms of every other department, though their walls and walls of extra shoes created a barrier and slightly more intimate place for the _Shoes Bitches_.

Lovino narrowly avoided the grumpy Alfred as he ducked back into the Shoes area. He sat an unopened bottle of hand sanitizer on their little table they kept for the Shoes Phone and notes. Their schedule was pinned on the wall above it and Lovino caught himself smiling when he saw his and Gilbert’s names together on the sheet.

Gilbert watched him curiously from his seat on an unopened shipment of boots. He felt a fraction of his anxiety ease away with each cleaning utensil placed out in the open.

“I know OCD isn’t like the stereotypes and shit,” Lovino began, still unloading boxes of tissues and baby wipes he may or may not have (but definitely did) stolen from other departments. “I know it’s more than keeping your shit in alphabetical order. But I don’t know what it’s like for _you_ , so you have to bear with me here.”

He stepped aside to let Gilbert have a full view of their newly cluttered table. There was a box of tissues beside baby wipes and hand sanitizer. Pushed against the wall were spray bottles of cleaner and a roll of paper towels. On the edge, closer to the door, was a box of latex gloves and a packet of sponges and rubber kitchen gloves.

“So, uh,” Lovino looked away from Gilbert and ignored the raging blush he felt burning his cheeks. “Here’s some shit… you know, if it helps.”

Oh, how Gilbert was glad he gave this man a chance. He could see what Antonio saw—not that he hadn’t already seen Lovino’s gentler side before now. He had seen the way he would scream insults while also working on background tasks solely to help—like when he grumbled and groaned about how much of a moron Francis was… while helping the man with a rather nasty knot in his hair. He was gentle as can be despite knowing the blonde wasn’t at all tender-headed.

Lovino could act just as sweet as Antonio sometimes.

Gilbert appreciated the thought his newest boyfriend put forward. He knew there was something wrong in Lovino’s head just like there was something wrong in his own. He could sense the unease Lovino felt at times but never brought it up. Antonio said Lovino had some issues but never went into depth; he felt it wasn’t his to share.

“The gloves,” Gilbert began when he realized he had been staring. “Uh, the gloves might help.”

“This is incredibly awkward.”

“Ja, I know.”

The two avoided eye-contact but still felt small smiles pulling at their lips. Gilbert grateful for the gesture and Lovino pleased he did something to help, even remotely so.

* * *

They returned to Francis’s and Gilbert’s apartment at six in the morning. They had been held up at work and stuck in the horrific Black Friday traffic. They both stumbled in, feet sore, backs aching, and eyes heavy. While they were working, Antonio and Francis were snoozing in the Vargas apartment.

In the last month they had began switching homes. Their beds only really fit two people at a time, despite how hard the original trio tried to fit in their own bed. While Francis’s new bed was much nicer it in no way fit four people.

When it came out that both Gilbert and Lovino would be working through the night and leaving their first ever Thanksgiving together early, Francis had given fake tears and demanded they take the car.

_"I’m not working until later that night,” he said. “You can take the car! You two can stay here and I’ll go spend some quality time with Toni, honhonhon.”_

Lovino would never get used to that pervy fucking laugh.

And here they were now: Gilbert and Lovino finally made their way to the awaiting bed in the properly-insulated apartment after their grueling night working. Meanwhile, Antonio would be sleeping with Francis in the suspiciously-cold apartment that somehow survived despite a massive fire that nearly took out the first floor just weeks before.

The fire was the final straw for Francis, who demanded Lovino and Antonio move back with them. It was also the perfect time for him to bring up moving into a bigger place again. Lovino nixed that idea, claiming he was too poor for that shit. In reality, he was nervous they were moving too fast.

The men snuggled together under the fluffy bed covers and relaxed into the warmth. They were too tired to even pretend they didn’t like cuddling.


	21. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo ignore the plot holes. I wrote this shit like a year ago and I'm only editing it to add porn lmfao

December. Snow was falling and Christmas decorations were finally acceptable. Normally Lovino would be pissed it was winter, but he couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up instead. He was officially moved out of his shitty old apartment and living with his handsome boyfriends. He had a home with heating and a kitchen that didn’t have mold issues. He had a big bed that didn’t smell like dust.

And, for the first time in years, he had a Christmas tree. It was a few-years-old artificial tree that stood at six feet tall and took up the corner of their living room. Lovino sat idly by as Antonio and Gilbert took the pieces from the giant box and matched the colored metal pieces of the branches to the base.

“I need another orange!” Antonio said, hands scraped and itchy from the fake foliage. Lovino rolled his eyes and carelessly threw an orange-ended tree limb to the Spaniard.

It took an hour to assemble, which was slow considering they had four men in their home. It was sad, really.

Lovino was unimpressed with their time—and shocked by the many, many boxes Francis pulled out of storage that was filled to the brim. Three boxes of ornaments, one box of garland and tinsel, two boxes of gaudy decorations, and a small box that only held the star and a skirt for the tree.

He knew his childish excitement wasn’t as well hidden as he hoped it was when he heard the _snap_ of a camera and _awe-ing_ by Antonio and Francis.

“Lights go on first,” Gilbert said automatically when Lovino began eying the many boxes before them. “Then garland, tinsel, and ornaments. Star goes on last.”

“Why?” Lovino asked, voice flat. He was ready for some weird compulsive explanation by the albino.

“ _Because we’re not animals_ ,” Gilbert replied.

Francis took the liberty of beginning the light, knowing he was tall and thin enough to slid around the tree without getting caught against the wall. His hair was pulled back in a red ribbon and Lovino had to admit, it was a nice look on the man.

Once the lights were on they moved on to garland and tinsel. They had long strands of garland in shimmery silver, red, and blue. It brought back a childish excitement to Lovino and he hissed when he heard all three of his _idiot_ lovers cooing at him.

The ornaments had no particular order, which Lovino was thankful for. It was tradition they just do whatever, like every other family would. The nicer ones went up higher, of course, to avoid being knocked off and broken. The Italian didn’t bring any of his own decorations (he didn’t own any; he had told Feliciano to keep whatever they had left). He could, however, tell which third of their (their) ornaments had been given by whom.

The glittery ones had to be Antonio’s—it just seemed like an Antonio thing to own. Something bright and colorful an eye-catching. Something other men might be embarrassed to have.

                There were solid-colored ornaments in two different shapes: basic spheres and pear-shaped. They were matte and didn’t sparkle or shine, yet held a warmer appearance for the holiday. Lovino had noticed they kept a few of those separated in another box. He was told in the kitchen, and out of earshot, that Gilbert didn’t like having an odd number of them so they removed one for every broken counter-part to keep them in even numbers.

                Francis’s were the antique-looking glass ones they had to keep higher up on the tree with tightly-pinched hooks to prevent falling. Some were blown-glass and rather heavy, needing to rest on branches to help support the weight.

It didn’t feel right, though. Antonio surveyed the tree with his eyes and contemplated what was missing.

“What now, the star?” Lovino asked, putting away the last of the tissue paper and ornament boxes.

“No,” Antonio said to the surprise of Gilbert and Francis. “The star goes on last. It’s not done yet. It’s missing something.”

“What?” Gilbert asked, almost offended at the implication he missed a step in his delicate process. He picked up the way Antonio’s soft eyes flickered to the Italian picking at glitter stuck around his nails. “ _Oh_. I see.”

Their tree had everything. Everything but Lovino.

* * *

Later that day Francis grabbed Lovino by the hand and dragged him out the door.

“I need help with last minute shopping!” He said, voice heightened by stress. Lovino could only groan and go along with the man, knowing he’ll get something in return for helping.

Sometimes it was blow-jobs. Sometimes it was breadsticks.

_Goddamn, I love breadsticks._

The men rushed to the car parked not too far from the apartment entrance. It was a rather warm December but they still bundled up for the random gusts of freezing wind that could double as needles.

They both took a minute after finding safety in the car to check out their hair in the car mirrors and to check their skin hadn’t become too reddened by the wind.     

Francis started the car and turned the vents off until it was warm enough not to shoot out more freezing air at them. “We can leave in a minute. We’ll never get good parking,” he muttered.

Lovino rolled his eyes and reached out an icy hand to smooth down some fly-away strands to come loose from Francis’s hair ribbon. “You’re going out on _Christmas Eve_ , idiot. Who waits until Christmas Eve to shop for anything?”

Francis pouted and tapped his fingers as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. “Gilbert has issues with peeking and Antonio is forgetful when we run out of things.”

“Peeking? You didn’t get him anything yet?”

“I usually like to pick out a few food items for him that I keep secret until tonight or tomorrow. He’s pretty easy to find food for.”

“And Antonio?”

“He likes anything he’s given. He gets excited for all of it.”

“What about you?” Lovino asked with genuine curiosity. “You’re a shopaholic. You buy yourself everything and leave nothing for them to buy.”

“Them?”

“I’m still paying off student loans,” he growled. Fuck student loans.

A smile stretched across the blonde man’s face and a new idea planted itself in his mind. “Then I have a new idea for this Christmas. Fret not, my petite amour! I know the perfect way to add you to the festivities!”

* * *

Christmas music jingled in the background as Antonio hopped around their kitchen with flour flying every which way. Gilbert took his time doing his holiday disinfecting of their bathroom and bedroom (Ludwig would be a terror if he showed up on Christmas day to a home even slightly dirty).

There were already three cookie trays with dough ready to go into the oven. Antonio went all out and made sugar cookies in the shapes of snowmen, trees, globes, and penguins. There were actual gingerbread men cooling on a rack and he had the mix for the icing ready at any moment, along with various colored food dyes.

When he was done with cookies he had plans to make a cake with peppermint and chocolate.

The boys had been gone for a couple hours at this point and Antonio was happy to have the majority of the apartment to himself, with the entirety of the kitchen totally his. He was normally happy to be surrounded by his family but, let’s be real, he wasn’t perfect and didn’t want to blow up on the boys. It wasn’t that he was hard to anger, he was just _amazing_ at anger management.

Thank God his poor little Lovi wouldn’t have to see that side of him: the side that will murder your entire family in front of you if you got in his way and burnt his cookies.

“How’s the baking going, babe?”

Antonio glanced up from his mixing bowl to see Gilbert’s reddened cheeks peeking into the kitchen.

“It’s good,” he smiled. “Why is your face red?”

“I found a major ball of hair in the shower drain. It took forever to get out.” Gilbert shivered.

“Blonde?”

“I’m withholding sex from that French son of a bitch.”

The albino went back to finish his work and catch a shower before he was expected to help with unloading groceries or wrapping presents. Antonio pulled out his cookies and put in the last batch before starting on icing the cooled cookies.

He had time alone and hated the way he was losing ways to distract himself. Holidays were always amazing and fun and exciting… but he couldn’t stop the flashes of faded memory of his old life. The way Christmas was picture-perfect with his family. The way they all wore neat sweaters and the way his mom scolded him for his curly hair never staying flat for pictures.

There were the baskets of old Christmas cards and the plates of store-bought cookies because baking would be too messy this close to their annual party. There were trash bags in their basement filled with used cleaning supplies from making their home sparkle beyond the snow. He remembered the way his fingers cramped up from replacing all the impossibly miniature colored lights for their tree.

Then there was the silent crying in his bedroom once the party was over and he had to go let it all out from the stress of the day. He remembered he disappointment of his parents giving away most of his presents and the way they said he should be proud to have given someone less fortunate something.

He’d have liked to have his own fucking presents and a day that wasn’t lies covered in plastic poinsettias and a manger scene. Yeah, it would have been just _chill_ if Antonio actually had presents at the end of the day to distract him from the itchy sweater he had to wear.

The oven timer went off and he took a breath before pulling on his oven mitts.

* * *

The trunk of their road-salted car was filled with bags upon bags of whatever they could find at the stores they’d been hitting up all day. They had a system worked out in which Francis would drop Lovino off in front then drive around the block until Lovino had found whatever vague items Francis wrote down on his shopping list.

Lovino was given an envelope of money and the lined yellow paper of things he should try to find.

_The fuck is this shit? I didn’t sign up for this! I signed up for fucking three hot men!_

The list included batteries (with no specifications what kind), condoms, marshmallows, socks, tape, ribbons, soap, towels, and other weird and unrelated items. Then, at the bottom of the page, were the words, “dealer’s choice.”

Which meant Lovino had total control and could say fuck it and buy whatever.

He returned from two of their stores with the weirdest things he could find. It was disappointing when Francis didn’t even bat an eye at “I bought thirty-two packets of sea monkeys.”

They did eventually make it to their local grocery store where the parking was so horrendous that they had to park across the street at some local coffee shop. They were nearly hit a handful of times on their way to the store, where there were no carts or baskets left.

Lovino was told to pick what they would eat for lunch the next day and Francis would prepare their dinner. The little Italian was pleased to finally get his goddamn Italian food. It was this day that Francis finally saw the side of Lovino he’d only heard stories of:

_The overly-enthusiastic Lovino who would push an old lady down a set of stairs if it meant he could get the last can of tomato sauce._

Francis had his speculations that Lovino had social anxiety or some form of aversion to the public or social events. He knew the man didn’t do well with crowds… he just had no idea it was the crowd that was in danger, not Lovino himself.

He watched in terror as Lovino dashed between carts and screaming kids to get to the shelves with the last remaining cans or boxes of what he needed. He hopped over a puddle of vomit on the ground to make it to the last box of candy canes before an old lady on a motorized cart could.

“Lovino!”

The Italian turned to face Francis with the box tucked securely in his arms. The noise he made resembled a hiss.

_Mine mine mine._

“Let’s… go check out.”

* * *

Christmas morning. Lovino hadn’t expected it to be so… _homey_. The presents, old and last-minute, were wrapped and waiting under the tree with shiny bows and neatly-written nametags. There were stockings hung on the wall with their first initial stitched on in gold.

There was a blush threatening to break out when Lovino noticed the tree had been finished, the star in place on top, and the green branches now adorned by the candy canes he picked out himself.

They had agreed before that they wouldn’t have company or any parties. Gilbert and Francis knew about Antonio’s aversion to parties and formal gatherings, while none of them knew how to deal with the awkwardness that was Ludwig and Feliciano knowing about their arrangement.

Their TV played a non-stop video of a fireplace and there was faint music still in the background. Around the tree they sat and opened the boxes, laughing at the gag gifts Lovino found (“ _Lovi, why did you give me eleven packets of sea monkeys?_ ”), aweing at the cashmere sweaters and socks.

No one brought any attention to the fact Lovino had the most presents, nor did they turn down the cookies Antonio offered when their stomachs felt like bursting.

Lovino spent hours working on the perfect lunch of Italian food. No one turned that down either, even when Gilbert was choking down a cookie trying to escape.

Finally they finished their food and settled down to watch the only movie they could agree on: Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. It was Lovino’s favorite “Christmas” movie.

* * *

 Rudolph was ignored on the TV, as was the awkward phone call Gilbert was on in the kitchen. Good ol' Ludwig was coerced into making the "Merry Christmas" call by his own small Italian man. Gilbert was speaking in frustrated German to his younger brother while his better halves were all busy in the next room.

Francis and Lovino had worked Antonio's shirt off and tossed it aside. Every time Antonio would try to right himself and grab someone else's shirt (or pants, _damn buttons_ ), hew as pushed back onto the couch. He craned his head back onto the arm rest, allowing Lovino to nuzzle his jaw and begin sucking at that warm, tantalizing skin.

Francis's presence returned after a brief absence, candy cane in hand. He reached the wrapped peppermint candy out, tracing along Antonio's chest with it. He followed the curves and turns of the Spaniard's body, enjoying the way his and Lovino's actions caused the shirtless man's pants to tent up.

Lovino detached himself from his target and licked up his jaw before leaning away. He sat, still, listening to the bored tone of Gilbert's through the German drabble. Francis gave him a smirk and a wink, motioning for the Italian to go to Gilbert. The lack of attention had Antonio whining before Lovino could even turn into the kitchen.

Francis, now alone with Antonio, situated himself on Antonio's growing lap. Lust-filled brown eyes cracked open, watching every move of the man above.

In the next room stood Gilbert, who wanted to just end the call already. He quirked an eyebrow at the appearance of his youngest boyfriend, which turned into both brows raised when the Italian immediately dropped to his knees in front of him. Lovino jerkily undid Gilbert's pants and ripped them down along with his underwear, and began lapping at the hardening cock before him.

"Ich bin mit den Jungs. Neiin, ich bin nicht-- _CHRISTUS!_ Um, lobe den Herrn?"

Lovino grinned around the thick cock he was struggling not to gag on. _Fuck that blonde bastard._

He heard a shriek from the next room. What the fuck is Francis doing to Toni?

* * *

Antonio was fully naked by now, as was Francis. He was a quick undresser and a professional at getting others out of their pants. Antonio had been moved to sit on the edge of the couch while Francis kneel before him. Tanned hands were gripped in blonde locks, grip tight enough to say "I'm about to cum" as Francis licked him from the base of his cock to his asshole.

The warm (and skilled) tongue of Francis's had turned Toni into a panting, begging mess of a man. Francis focused on eating out Antonio until he was cumming untouched. It was something he'd always wanted to try, but he could never quite get the Spanish man off without touching his cock. Francis leaned back a moment, broke off a piece of his candy cane and popped it in his mouth, and returned to Toni's needy hole.

 _"Oh, oh, God,_ " Antonio whimpered. He shivered at the minty tongue licking around his rim. He didn't know his ass could taste mint but fuck him if he's not tasting it right now via his ass.

* * *

 Gilbert was leaning against the counter, not even listening to his brother ramble on the other end. He had a hand gripped in Lovino's short hair and an elbow braced on the surface behind him. Lovino was like a jackhammer, bobbing his head as fast as he could while ignoring his cramping jaw and spit-covered face.

"Gotta go, West," Gilbert gasped out, clumsily shutting the phone off, his hips jerking as he came in Lovino's mouth.

* * *

 Francis hummed along to Rudolph, tongue darting around Antonio's prostate. His hands held Antonio's legs tightly, not letting the man close his legs until he was done sending him over the edge.

And he finally came, untouched, as Lovino and Gilbert rounded the corner. Lovi's red lips and Gil's worn expression was all Antonio needed. Cum covered his chest and some got into Francis's hair.

Across the room the TV boomed, "Merry Christmas to all! And to all a good night!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn isn't beta-read. Fuck it.


	22. Mitochondria

“This bed is way too fucking small,” Lovino groaned between the firm bodies of Antonio and Gilbert. “Three people to a bed was bad enough, but four? _Four_?”

Antonio did his best to roll onto his side and make more room for the over-heated Italian. “This would be better if we had a bigger bed.”

“This is weirdly familiar,” Gilbert said before wiping away the bangs stuck to his forehead in sweat. “Does this seem familiar to anyone else?”

Lovino growled. “Shut the fuck up, you albino.”

“Yeah, no,” Francis grunted while untangling his hair from under Gilbert’s arm. “I change my mind. Small beds aren’t quaint. We need a new one.”

Antonio felt conflicted. “We just bought this one!”

“You want a bigger bed, too!”

_“I don’t know what to feel!”_

“Everyone shut the fuck up!” Lovino nearly shouted. “I’ve heard this same argument seventeen fucking times! I’M CALLING THE GODDAMN SHOTS FROM HERE ON WHEN IT COMES TO THE FUCKING SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS.”

* * *

Gilbert began to second-guess himself when he saw the papers Lovino had littered the table with. Admittedly, he didn’t expect the poor,  _alleged_ college graduate, to be any good at finances or anything resembling paperwork.

“Where did you learn all this?” He asked, eyes skimming over the calculator and worksheets with pencil equations and charts.

“College.”

“You went to college?”

“It was on my fucking application, idiot.”

“I thought you made that part up.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Lovino said curtly, “We can afford another queen-sized mattress and bed frame. I double-checked the math and I factored in our discount at World Powers. We can work overtime to try and make up for some of the money we’d spend. Karpusi is dying for me to come to his department, if I go there I can get us extra cash with the commission.”

“Two beds?”

“Yeah. The bedroom will be a little tight, much like Antonio’s fine asshole, but I can’t do another fucking night sleeping in damp sheets and sweating for unsexy reasons.”

* * *

The next morning was tense. It was that looming feeling that something was wrong, that you forgot a huge assignment due in an hour, that your abusive uncle is in the next room and you don’t have time to leave before he finds you and beats you.

It was like the ghost of anxiety remained over Lovino’s head, swarming like angry wasps, waiting for him to make one wrong move—one right move—anything. He knew it had something to do with his dream. The dream he nearly forgot, that comes back in snippets when something around him reminds him. When he saw Francis and Antonio laughing over some inside joke from high school, when he saw Gilbert happily tapping away on his laptop and blogging about his love life.

He saw those blank faces and the empty feeling inside that followed. Lovino just wanted to remember the full dream. It wasn’t as nerve-wracking if he could remember the entire dream but now it’s mixing too much with his real life and he didn’t like it one bit.

It was Saturday and it was a rare day every single one of them was off work. Antonio was the only one with a constant, unchanging schedule. He was full time, Monday to Friday. Holidays off, weekends off. It was quite unexpected for the retail workers to even have a weekend off.

Which worked for and against Lovino. For it was getting hard to think straight with these three gorgeous men continuing with their lives with the one minor inclusion of a new young fuckboy.

“Lovi,” Gilbert called him from his thoughts. A weight lifted and he felt like he was there with them, not just in the same vicinity.

“What?”

Gilbert tapped away at his keyboard again and reread something on the screen. “You ever been polyamorous before?”

“No?”

The typing continued, clicks sounding faster. The talking stopped.

_He just wanted something to blog about._

_Okay, maybe this is the mental illness speaking but fuck this noise._

Lovino pulled his phone from his lap, making sure no one was watching him (he frowned when they weren’t—he wasn’t even receiving cute stares like he always wanted) when he opened settings and found the ringtones. He paused before pressing down on one, letting his phone ring out a generic tune.

Lovino quickly stood, running to the next room, shutting the door for privacy as if he was taking a real call. On the floor, by the dresser, was a box they shoved Lovino’s clothes in while they rearranged their belongings to fit a fourth man. Gilbert didn’t like the pile-shit-on-the-floor method like they previously enacted.

Lovino reached into the box, pulling a faded green messenger bag he used to put his college books in for when he walked his old campus. It looked inconspicuous and innocent. Inside he stuffed his phone charger and some clothes—leaving a red work shirt sticking out the side a little.

He exited the shared bedroom, quickly stating he was called into work and would catch a bus— _“No, no, Antonio, it’s your day off; you don’t need to drive me”_ —and wouldn’t be back until later. It was enough time to himself, to sort through the thoughts and feelings and decide if he’s made a huge mistake moving in with these people he barely knew.

* * *

Lovino spent his day at the library. It was the only place he could bum around and not be kicked out or expected to pay for something, as long he looked busy reading. It had been years since he hung out at a library, stopping when he was done with college and spent his free time either working or trying to sleep.

Around eight o’clock Lovino stopped staring blankly at books and left the emptying building to take a brief walk and decide his next course of action. His time “reading” was spent thinking about if it’d be better if he went back to Antonio or if he moved back into his old apartment before the squatters showed up.

He liked Antonio, he really did, and Gilbert and Francis are turning out to be better than he expected. But he couldn’t handle this big of a change—he didn’t _want_ to. Things were going well, with everyone getting along and no actual fights beyond heated teasing that usually ended with Lovino screaming at someone to shut their dirty whore mouth.

They had included him in their Christmas traditions and they had a pretty intense orgy on New Year’s because they wanted to _fuck in the New Year_. Things were going so well!

_So why do I still feel like shit? I wasn’t fucking expecting a hot new boyfriend to fix my problems, I’m not fourteen, but Jesus I thought I’d stop feeling so FUCKING LONELY, COME ON._

A motel sign shone brightly in the distance. Lovino sighed to himself and walked toward it. He needed to sort out his head before he returned home where it was impossible to think straight.

* * *

“We could just buy another queen-sized bed, move into a bigger apartment, and we’ll just push the beds together. Or when it gets hot we’ll push them apart so we don’t suffocate each other.”

Francis looked up from his small glass of wine and studied Antonio’s face. The Spaniard had been looking over the papers Lovino was working on, doing math and factoring in their average weekly salaries (Antonio’s being the only salary that was the same every two weeks). It was amazing how Lovino knew which numbers to work with and which small equations to use off the top of his head, unlike the rest of them who had forgotten anything of the sort once they finished their high school math courses.

“Having a college man is a real plus,” Francis muttered. “Do you even remember anything from school? Lovi probably knows how to do taxes without alcohol to numb the pain!”

“I, uh,” Antonio mumbled. “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell?”

“We’ll never have calculators with us all the time in real life,” Gilbert groaned.

“College will teach us real-life things… because they expected all of us to go.”

Francis huffed. “Okay, enough! High school was useless, whatever! Only one of us even has a real job. Speaking of which, has either of you heard from Lovi yet? He didn’t say how long he was called in for and I don’t like him riding those buses so late at night.”

“World Powers closes at nine, so he should be home soon,” Gilbert supplied. “If he misses the bus it’ll be ten at the latest.”

* * *

It was early in the morning when Lovino finally returned. He had spent the night at the shady motel; his time spent laying on top of the bedsheets and staring at the stains on the ceiling. The insomnia was back and he could swear he saw the paintings on the walls turn into the faceless white creatures from his dreams.

Dreams he wouldn’t be having at this rate, if the insomnia was to come back.

Sneaking into the apartment wasn’t easy. He didn’t have his own key yet and relied on using the hidden emergency key they kept under the greeting mat. He couldn’t risk climbing into bed with three people already there, so he opted to lay restless on the living room couch, curled up in a cold ball.

Francis was the first to awaken and find a not-quite-awake Lovino alone on the couch. A concern grew in the Frenchman’s gut, like something wasn’t right but something wasn’t wrong either. All he knew was something wasn’t how it used to be.

Because, when it came to them, nothing was ever normal or right. Francis knew how badly Antonio had been ostracized by his family when they found out he was dating a man—his high school best friend. They had lost a handful of close friends when they started dating Gilbert and made it clear they were polyamorous, possibly even open to more people should they find one.

No one, not even them, expected to find another man. Francis noticed, it seemed they managed to find a man who also wasn’t quite right just like them.

And Antonio won’t even tell them what he knew of Lovino’s hidden issues. Much like how Antonio refuses to talk about his own.

Francis tucked a stray hair behind his ear and slid his feet easily over the floor until he was hovering over the burdened Italian. He saw the way Lovino didn’t bother to search for a blanket or pillow. There was the way his shoes were still on, his jacket pulled tightly around himself, his face looking more pained than relaxed.

Francis sighed. He’d have to get to the bottom of Lovino Vargas


	23. Honhonhon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Francis's POV since I neglect that bastard.

Today was off to a rather _annoying_ start. I come into work, running late from some… morning activities, _honhon_. Gilbert is talented with that tongue of his, and the way he runs it up and down my cock. You know he has no gag reflex, non? He can go down for hours and not be bothered. I imagine his brother is the same way, _honhon_. That lucky little Feliciano.

As soon as I rush into the restaurant, there’s already a huge line of customers—mostly elderly couples, who are the worst tippers, always telling me to get a real job when I finish and take them their bill. I’m not working here for free, Martha, why don’t you pass along some of that Social Security check, oui?

I see Emma subbing in for the host, which is never good! How short-staffed are we and how much of my hair am I going to pull out?

Or have Gil pull out later, _honhonhon_.

Emma is looking flustered, motioning to an old man to follow her to the non-smoking section while another pair of waiting people made loud faux-whispered comments about _our_ incompetence. A pair of cold, wrinkled hands tried to grab me by my sleeve as I passed by, demanding to be seated, which is neither my job nor my intention! I just got here! I need to put my things up and get my nametag pinned on to my vest!

Oh, I see Toni hasn’t yet described my place of work? Fine, allow Monsieur Francis to inform my beautiful audience! My restaurant is borderline classy. We’re like that Olive Garden Lovino keeps stealing breadsticks from. We dress in fine, white dress shirts with black ties and vests. We keep an apron around our waist—it’s much easier for carrying my notepad and extra straws.

Straws, I add, Lovino keeps asking me to steal. I don’t know what my petite lover wants with so many straws. Gil said it’s a poverty thing.

By my break I was ready to pick up smoking. I was sitting outside with Emma, who was doing her best not to burst into frustrated tears.

“We lost two more waiters to that new hipster café,” she vented to me while clawing through a knot in her short hair. “They’ll be closed in a month but did anyone care? No! They just want to work for a place that allows them to expose their tattoos and dye their hair blue!”

“Teenagers,” I sighed, reaching back to tighten the ribbon barely holding back my own hair. “I hear they don’t drug test, either.”

We’re something of veterans here, me and Emma. She’s one of Antonio’s best friends and I’d consider her my best work friend. We’re the waiters who train the new guys and get called in on days like today. Emma can recite the menu from heart and I’m quite talented at charming customers in generous tips.

Things were weird for a bit when Antonio left. She acted like nothing happened, never even mentioned him, but was distant. Her loyalty lies with Toni and it made the work day harder to get through when I had to spend breaks alone and hoping a new hire didn’t badger me for advice.

Oh but now Emma is becoming a fangirl. She was very open about how unsure she was about our new arrangement. She did tell me after some time that she knew Toni was with Lovi soon after the breakup and questioned his decision.

And my, I almost felt offended at that. It was almost like she didn’t trust our new boyfriend! I know she’s worried about us getting hurt, but we’re grown men!

(This sounds familiar. Toni, is that you? Are you dead and haunting me?)

I took my phone from my apron and sent a quick text to Toni. I’ve had a stressful day, I’m allowed to give into random paranoia, okay!

It was almost a full minute before he replied with a dickpic. Well… not so much a dickpic, but a grainy image of him and a certain other boyfriend during sexual touching. And by sexual touching, I mean sex. Just sex. I can tell by the lack of pale skin that that was Lovino's asshole I see stretched around Toni's cock. I'm curious how they took the picture.

That does hit the spot. I thank god for my apron/stiff vest combo and shuffle past Emma to get inside the employee bathroom to readjust my clothing to conceal a certain annoyance.

* * *

It’s not just me, right? Lovino’s been just a touch bipolar since we began our new living arrangement. He hates us, he loves us; he’s sassy and holier-than-thou, he’s wanting to be alone and looks past us. Antonio won’t tell us much about their time together when we were broken up and it’s really grinding on my nerves to know this little about our fourth’s mental situation!

I know Antonio’s father beat him when he wasn’t being his perfect son and now Antonio has trouble with speaking up. I know Gilbert has been working on severe OCD since he was little and has his own stints of anxiety when he feels unclean for too long—when a change is too big for his mental schedule.

But Lovi? I’ve got nothing! I’ve gathered he has trouble sleeping but I doubt it’s insomnia like he claims—he sleeps just fine when he’s near Toni (or us, but not recently now that he seems to be in a void). Sometimes he wakes up freaked out but only says it was a bad dream— _“I don’t need to talk about it, I’m not a girl!”_

Lovino acts like he hates being called Lovi but we all see the way he blushes when he hears it. He usually won’t spend time with all three of us at once. Be in the same room? Sure. Carry on a conversation that’s anything deeper than a puddle? He gets twitchy and makes an excuse to leave the room.

He likes wine and pot but doesn’t do it often. He likes to flirt and be a romantic little shit but I see the uncertainty in his eyes when it’s reciprocated.

I do not know what’s gotten Lovi so bent out of shape, or if it’s even a thing rather than an emotional state. But by god, I will find out if my name isn’t Francis Bonnefoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit guys, we finally caught up to the fanfiction.net version!
> 
> I'll be real. I haven't updated this in like a year. I'm not sure where to go, as I always bitch about in author's notes. Probs gonna take this to a dark place because FUCK IT.


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